


The Four Pillars of The Psychic

by Obscure Fanfiction Series (RichardGraysonPercyJackson)



Series: The Psychic and The Detective [1]
Category: Psych (TV 2006)
Genre: Attempted Murder, Bisexual Character, Bombs, Coma, Eventual Relationships, First Dates, Head Injury, Kidnapping, M/M, Pansexual Character, Real Psychic Shawn Spencer, cliff hanger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:26:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26240053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RichardGraysonPercyJackson/pseuds/Obscure%20Fanfiction%20Series
Summary: Shawn Spencer is Psychic. Real, 100%, absolutely authentic psychic.He manages.
Relationships: Carlton Lassiter/Shawn Spencer
Series: The Psychic and The Detective [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1906045
Comments: 28
Kudos: 140





	1. Shawn Spencer, Psychic Extraordinaire

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Case of the Missing Conventioneers](https://archiveofourown.org/works/135693) by [gryvon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gryvon/pseuds/gryvon). 



> This is my first psych fanfiction I've ever uploaded. Chapter one is oof, way longer than I'd intended. If anyone ever reads this, I hope you enjoy

From the very moment Head Detective Carlton Lassiter of the Santa Barbara Police department had met Shawn Spencer and Burton Guster, he had held no small amount of pure hatred for their immaturity and idiocy. They made mockery of real police work yet somehow still managed to solve cases far faster than Detective Lassiter himself could ever have hoped to. nAnd don’t get him started with their immature attitude. Shawn Spencer was wild, reckless, immature, and absolutely infuriating in a way that made Lassiter wonder how the hell his father had ever managed to not shoot him.

With that said, Burton Guster could be tolerable on occasion and when he was alone, he was a perfectly normal, rational adult. But Shawn Spencer...sweet  _ justice _ , Shawn Spencer...

Shawn Spencer was an overactive. Shawn Spencer was wild. Shawn Spencer was an eccentric  _ child _ who claimed to be psychic with visions that meant he just  _ had  _ to throw himself full body onto Lassiter without a care in the world as to what the hell that might look like. 

He flirted shamelessly with anyone and everyone and somehow always managed to land Guster and himself into some precarious situation that could have gotten them killed if Lassiter and the others hadn’t gotten there in time.

For three damn  _ years _ , Lassiter had been forced to put up with the nightmare of a consultant, taking every change he could to try and prove the man as a fake with no care that Spencer would end up in jail alongside some of the criminals he’d helped put behind bars. For three years, Lassiter wanted nothing more to get rid of him.

But then the case with Detective Drimmer happened. The one where Lassiter was accused of murder. The one where he’d been put on suspension and had nearly lost his job and free life. The one where...

The one where Shawn Spencer was the only one who believed him to be innocent. Shawn Spencer who hadn’t held a single job since high school who believed without a shadow of a doubt that Lassiter was innocent. Who let Lassiter stay in his office, even though he didn’t know the man wasn’t a murderer. Shawn Spencer who broke into the records room of the police office to steal the shredded documents in an effort to find Kenny Loggins’ arrest sheets.

Lassiter didn’t have  _ proof _ that Spencer had broken in but come on...he must have. Because really, visions? Seriously?

Shawn Spencer who had nearly gotten himself  _ killed _ in Lassiter’s own home, on Lassiter’s own couch, just to save the Detective who didn’t even like him. Just to prove a man who hated him was innocent.

Amidst all the confusion of Shawn Spencer, there were several things Lassiter at least knew to be true, things he often reflected on in an attempt to remind himself that even if he didn’t understand a damn word coming out of that man-child’s mouth, he at least knew the following.

Carlton Lassiter was bisexual. That was something he had known since he was nine years old and something that had only ever caused him pain.

Carlton Lassiter faked being straight. Carlton Lassiter only dated women and even dated a woman until she found out. Then they’d gotten a dirvoce, he’d spent two long years alone wondering if he was even remotely good enough for  _ someone _ ...

Carlton Lassiter was a bisexual man who only ever dated women because it was easier that way. 

But the case with Drimmer seemed to have changed the way he saw Spencer and though he’d never admit it, could  _ barely _ admit it to himself...the head detective found himself almost worried whenever the psychic didn’t show up at the station. Hell, he even felt a touch of concern when the boy-man’s visions left him breathless and exhausted.

Carlton Lassiter was bisexual.

Especially, it seemed, when it came to Shawn fucking Spencer.

……………………………………..

“Well if it isn’t my favorite detective!”

Surprisingly, for once it wasn’t Shawn Spencer’s loud declaration that drew Lassiter’s attention from his paperwork but as, instead, the sudden racing of his heart inside of his chest because. 

Of course, being who he was it took him a few seconds to realize that no, he wasn’t having a heart attack, he was just somewhat (completely) taken by Shawn Spencer and by the time the detective managed to school his features into a (fake) glower, the station’s resident psychic was already perched on the edge of O’hara’s desk, no doubt flirting with her as per usual since he was evidently blind to the fact that she had absolutely no interest in him that way.

Except, Lassiter realized belatedly, O’hara was out for part of the morning, doing a drug sweep with Buzz and a few other officers at an apartment down the road for a case Lassiter wasn’t allowed on. And, he realized, it wasn’t O’hara’s desk Spencer was sitting on, but Lassiter’s own.

As as his gaze slowly trailed up to Spencer’s face, another thought occurred that the psychic had actually been talking to  _ him _ rather than O’hara or the spirits he claimed often wandered around the station, waiting for him to show up.

“Hiya Lassie,” Spencer said with that stupid (adorable) cheeky grin of his when Lassiter’s eyes finally met his. “How’s the day?” his hand flew to his temple before Lassiter could reply and he continued speaking. “I sensed Jules wasn’t here this morning and that you were feeling lonely. Coincidentally, so I was I so I thought I’d stop by!”

Lassiter’s heart began racing again at the mere thought of Spencer stopping by  _ just _ to see him and the paranoid part of his brain began to wonder if Spencer could sense his attraction, then it was promptly beaten out by the logic that psychics don’t exist and Spencer was lying, as per usual.

“Doin’ alright there, Lassie?”

“What do you want, Spencer?” Lassiter snapped to hide his brief moment of staring blankly at the man without saying anything. “I’m busy.”

“With what?”

“With a case.”

“What kind of case?”

“A kidnapping case that  _ you _ are not allowed-”

“Ooh! Lemme see!”

Lassiter really should have expected it by now but he still spluttered in disbelief when Spencer snatched the case file off of his desk and casually flipped it open, beginning to skim the paged.

“Spencer, what part of ‘ _ you are not allowed on’ _ did you not understand?”

“The ‘not’ part,” was Spencer casual reply before he finally looked up at lassiter. “You’re busy with this?” he asked, holding up the file for emphasis. “It’s child’s play. I solved it in, like, ten seconds. And you’ve been working on it how long?”

Lassiter growled (mostly fake) as he stood and yanked the file out of Spencer’s hand, slamming it back down on his desk and ignoring the officers passing by who shot him uneasy looks.

“If you’re so sure you’ve solved, then enlighten me,” he demanded, only slightly regretting that choice when Spencer’s eyes seemed to light up.

“Why Lassie, I thought you’d never ask,” Spencer declared as he reached down to slap his hand on the file, staring at it for a few moments before sitting up with a beaming smile on his face.

“All five of your victims attend the same school.”

“I’m aware,” Lassiter drawled, crossing his arms over his chest. “None of them have anything in common. Your vision are supposed to tell us stuff we don’t know, not what we do know.”

“You’re wrong.” when Lassiter opened his mouth to object, Spencer clarified, “About the victims not having anything in common, I mean.”

Lassiter would never admit to being interested in what Spencer had to say but he did find himself just  _ slightly _ curious as to what these missing kids could even possibly have to do with one another.

Lassiter suspected drugs, honestly. It always was with kids like that.

“And what connection might that be?”

“They all ride Bus 17 in their district. They’re the last five to get off which is probably why they were the targets in the first place. Who went missing first?”

“Sixteen year old _____ ______.”

“He gets off last,” Spencer said, a hand fluttering near his temple but not in his usual fashion. His hands were shaking, Lassiter noted, and he looked anxious, foot bouncing against the desk like he might just get up and run at any second. “He went missing first because-”

“Because the bus driver must have grabbed him,” Lassiter concluded, taking a seat at his desk and flipping open the file again. “He lives at the end of a long dirt road. There aren’t any houses or witnesses around.”

“Plus he’s sixteen,” Spencer chimed in. “More than old enough to walk home alone.”

“Exactly, next was the fourteen year old, the twelve year old, the fifteen eyar old, et cetera, et cetera,” Spencer drawled, waving his hand in a circle by his head.

“Alright, so the bus driver is our number one suspect,” Lassiter said, making a note before looking up at Spencer. “What’s his name?”

“I don’t know,” Spencer replied, shrugging as though there  _ weren’t _ five boy missing with a man who was doing god knows what to them at that very moment. 

“How can you not know?” Lassiter demanded. “You know the same bus, why don’t you know the driver’s name?”

“Because I got a brief vision of the day they were getting kidnapped and it happened to show their bus number,” Spencer snapped back. “They didn’t know the bus driver’s name so I don’t either.”

“Convenient.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Right.”

Spencer rolled his eyes before bouncing off the desk. “Hopefully that much information helped, Lassi-fras,” he told the detective as he shoved his hands into his pockets. Though Lassiter would never point it out, there was almost something... _ odd _ in Spencer’s gaze though it vanished a moment later. “If you’d like, I can go to the school and check out the driver, find his name.”

“Don’t bother, Spencer,” Lassiter snapped. “I’ll do it. Of course, that’s assuming you’re right and this isn’t just a waste of my time.”

Spencer frowned. “I’d prefer if you let me do it, Detective Lassiter,” he said in an odd show of formality that caused Lassiter to freeze with instant suspicion and worry, though he easily hid the latter with irritation.

“And why is that, Mr. Spencer?” he asked, deciding to be just as formal.

“I

“I just have a sense that our bus driver will recognize you,” Spencer replied. “As, you know, a cop.”

It was a cheap lie and they both knew it but Lassiter let it go in favor of asking, “And you don’t think he’ll recognize you from the news?”

“Probably,” Spencer replied with a casual shrug. “But criminals don’t tend to take me seriously.” he grinned. “Like you, actually.”

“Perhaps if you acted more your age, I would,” Lassiter drawled. 

Spencer shrugged. “I’ll contact you if I have anything,” he said, giving the detective a quick two fingered salute and leaving before Lassiter had even finished comprehending his reply.

…………………………………

“I thought the chief didn’t want us taking any cases right now, so soon after Drimmer,” Gus said as he and Shawn headed up the stairs of Granite Hills High School, heading towards the main office.

“She did.”

“So what are we doing at a high school?”

“I’ll tell you later, buddy,” Shawn promised before flinging open the doors to the office, causing the receptionist to jump, startled by his exuberant entrance.

“Hello Miss Daniels.”

“You’re not allowed to be in here without buzzing in,” Miss Daniels told him instantly.

Shawn frowned. “I’m sorry, the door was open,” he said, pointing towards the door.

Miss Daniels eyed him with suspicion before asking, “Can I help you, sir?”

“I’m sure you can,” Shawn replied as he approached the desk and rested his elbows on top of it, flashing Miss Daniels a beaming smile and drawing a laugh from the petite woman and a roll of the eyes from Gus who had caught up just in time to hear Shawn’s shameless flirting.

Their unpermitted entrance seemed to be in the past as Miss Daniels smiled and asked,

“What can I help you with, sir?”

“I’m Shawn Spencer, Psychic extraordinaire,” Shawn introduced with a hand on his chest before he turned and gestured to Gus. “This is my assistant, Juan Carlos McSnazzyPants.”

“Shawn-”

“I’m teaching him the ways of America,” Shawn mock whispered, flashing Miss Daniels a smile before getting back on track. “I recently found out my estranged uncle works here and it’s the strangest thing but my dear old pops never did tell me his name.”

“Were you hoping I could get you in touch with him?”

“That would be amazing,” Shawn replied. “I know he drives bus seventeen but sadly, that’s all I know.”

“Bus seventeen,” Miss Daniels murmured to herself as logged into the computer in front of her. “His name is Jackson Maxwell,” she said, looking up at Shawn. “But it doesn’t look like he’s come in to work for a couple of days. It says here he’s on vacation.”

“Well that’s good, mom always said he worked too hard,” Shawn said.

“Mr. Spencer, he’s a bus driver. I don’t believe his job is the hardest there is in this school.”

Shawn quickly brushed over that. Do you think you can give me his address? I know my pops hates him but I’m just…I want to get to know him on my own. Without my father’s dark opinion twisting my own, sweet, innocent one.”

“Well, sure, I can…” Miss Daniels frowned. “How did you say you know Mr. Maxwell again?”

“He’s my uncle.”

She frowned a little harder. “But you didn’t know his name,” she reminded the psychic. “Or where he lives?”

“It’s been a few years since I’ve heard his name,” Shawn lied easily. “Dad doesn’t like to talk about him all that much. And I have such terrible memory, you know? Dad really doesn't want me around him because he’s a ‘bad influence’ but I just  _ really _ want to see him. He meant a lot to me as a kid, you know? I mean what do parents know anyway?” Shawn tacked on a smile as an image from Miss Daniels’ childhood - one of her sneaking out of her home in the dead of night to meet her father across town after her parents’ divorced - flashed through his mind. “You know what I mean?”

“I…” Miss Daniels sighed. “Yes. I do. If you’ll give me a minute, Mr. Spencer, I’ll print out his address with directions. How’s that?”

“That’s absolutely fantastic, thank you so much! You have no idea how much this means to me!” Shawn gushed. When Miss Daniels smiled and began printing the address, Shawn turned and frowned at the sight of the empty office. “Now where did McSnazzyPants go?” He shook himself out of his thoughts and turned back to Miss Daniels at the sound of rustling paper, taking the directions with a beaming smile.

“I hope you’re able to reconcile with him, Mr. Spencer,” she said.

“Thank you so much, Miss Daniels,” Shawn said before he rushed out of the office. “I’ll never forget you!” he sprinted out of the school to the parking lot, looking around only to end up heaving a long sigh. “Come on, Gus,” he muttered as he stared at the empty parking space that had just held Gus’s little blueberry of a car mere minutes earlier. “Man.”

………………………………….

Lassiter had a headache, had had one for several hours, and the incessant ringing of his cell phone on his desk was doing absolutely nothing to help with that. Heaving a sigh, he grabbed the phone and punched the ‘answer call’ button a little harder than necessary, pulling the phone to his ear as he snapped,

“Lassiter.”

“ _ Jacob Maxwell _ .”

Lassiter pulled the cell phone away from his ear, scowling at the sight of Spencer’s name on the screen.

“What the hell are you talking about?” he snapped when he put the phone back to his ear. “How did you get this number?”

“ _ Jacob Maxwell is your kidnapper slash bus driver guy.” _

“Oh  _ really _ ?” Lassiter drawled, forcing his voice to sound skeptical and irritated, even as he wrote down the name and thrust it across to O’hara’s desk, angrily hissing at her to search the name in their database before he returned his attention to the phone call. “And how exactly did you come about this information, Spencer?”

There was something cheeky in Spencer’s voice as the ‘psychic’ replied, “I divined it, of course.”

“Of course.”

“ _ Check it out and let me know what you find,”  _ Spencer said, ignoring Lassiter’s (fake) skepticism. “ _ I’ll see if I can divine anything about where the kids are.” _

Lassiter ended the call without replying.

……………………………….

Shawn sighed as he turned off Gus’s car - which he’d “borrowed” while Gus was in a work meeting - and stared up at the little yellow house where Jacob Maxwell lived.

“Should I have told someone what I was doing?” Shawn asked himself as he doubled checked the directions. After a moment he hummed. “Eh, nah,” he decided as he got out of the car and locked the door, shoving his phone and wallet into his jeans pocket before heading up to the front door.

Without bothering to think of a decent cover, Shawn knocked on the door and instantly heard a gruff shout of ‘I’m coming’ from inside, followed by the slamming of a door and footsteps. Not long after that, an older looking man answered the door with a frown on his face.

“Yeah?”

“Are you Jacob Maxwell?”

The man narrowed his eyes. “Can I help you?”

“I’m sure you can,” Shawn replied. “I’m Shawn Spencer.”

“You’re the psychic detective from the news, right?” Jacob asked, slight recognition in his eyes. “You work for the SBPD?”

“Actually, I mostly just a consult and they sometimes pay me,” Shawn replied, shrugging. “But sure, I’m the psychic detective from the news.”

“What can I help you with, Mr. Spencer?”

“Well…”  _ this is either going to go perfectly or terribly.  _ “I’m your nephew. My mom, Madeleine Maxwell, is your sister? I know yo guys haven’t spoken in awhile since my dad doesn’t really like you but I just...what do parents know, you know…?” Shawn trailed off and tried not look confident while not holding his breath. In hindsight, he probably should have thought up a better cover because for all he knew, Jacob didn’t even  _ have _ a sister named-

“Well I was hoping I’d get to meet you someday, Shawn!” Jacob cried, throwing an arm around Shawn’s shoulders and pulling him into the house, much to Shawn’s absolute confusion. “If I had recognized the last name, I never would have made you explain! Wow, my sister’s son is a  _ psychic _ , that’s amazing! Please, sit down. Can I get you anything to drink? How does orange juice sound?”

“Oh no, I…” Shawn took a quick glance around the house, noting a door in the corner of the kitchen which he mused must lead to the basement and, after a brief flash of a vision, was where the boys were benign held. “Uh…

“Here, let me get you some orange juice,” Jacob said, pouring Shawn a glass over at the counter and returning before Shawn had even realized he’d opened the fridge.

“Gosh, you didn’t have to,” Shawn said, thinking quick for a plan while picking up the glass and taking a step, not faking the surprise in his eyes. “Wow, that’s actually really good!”

“Freshly squeeze this morning,” Jacob bragged.

“Oh, do you have your own orange tree?” Shawn asked, trying to ignore the strange feeling in the back of his head as he took another sip of the juice.

“Yeah, a few,” Jacob replied. “I can take you out to see it later, if you’re free.”

“Sure,” Shawn replied. They talked for a few more minutes, Shwan still struggling to think of a plan on how to get out and call the cops or get the boys out without Jacob knowing.

“Would you be interested in seeing the orchard?” Jacob asked.

“Sure,” Shawn replied before standing. A bit too quickly though because his vision swayed and he stumbled, barely even aware he was falling until he felt arms behind his back and knees, lifting him up as though he was a fainting princess in distress.

“Listen Spencer,” Jacob hissed, Shawn’s vision failing him and head pounding though he knew he heard a door open, following by the creaking of steps and the feeling of moving. “I don’t know who the hell you think you are but I refuse to let you destroy everything I’ve worked for. Hopefully you didn’t tell anyone where you were going because you’re not getting out of here anytime soon.”

The chill of cold concrete against his back, seeping through his t-shirt, was the last thing Shawn was aware of before his mind fell into darkness.

……………………………………..

“Find anything on Maxwell?” Lassiter demanded as he stalked past Juliet’s desk, returning to his own.

“Some small, petty theft when he was a kid,” Juliet replied.

“Damn.”

“I did run his face through our database though.”

Lassiter perked up at that. “And?”

“And it looks like he’s been arrested on several aliases over the past ten years,” Juliet replied.

“Arrested for what?”

“Kidnapping and murder, but the bodies were never found and there was never really enough hard evidence to convict him.”

“How the hell did he slip through and become a fucking bus driver then?”

“Looks like he’s good at covering his tracks.”

“So he’s definitely our guy.”

“Most likely, yeah.”

Lassiter grunted. “Damn,” he grumbled. “Of course Spencer was right.”

“If Shawn figured out his name, maybe he figured out something else,” Juliet offered.

“Yeah,” Lassiter said with a scoff as he tried to ignore the roil of concern in his stomach that told him Shawn was in danger. “He said he’d call me if he found anything else, but that was six hours ago.”

“Well, we have Maxwell’s current address,” the blonde pointed out. “We could always pay him a visit. We might not have a warrant but we can at least subtly poke around.”

“Good,” Lassiter elcared, already out of his seat and grabbing his coat before Juliet had even finished saying the word ‘address’. “Come on, O’hara, let’s go.”

Juliet rolled her eyes at her partner’s enthusiasm but stood as well, following him over towards the door. But before they could make it to the parking lot, they were stopped by the sudden appearance of Gus, noticeably lacking Shawn.

“Have either of you seen Shawn?” he asked, slightly panic in his eyes though that was normal for hm.

“No, why?” Juliet asked.

“Because he stole my car,” Gus snapped. “ _ And _ he won’t answer my calls!”

“The idiot has probably gotten himself into some precarious situation again,” Lassiter growled as he stormed out to the station, his partner and Gus following close behind. “And I have a feeling I know where he is, let’s go.”

He hoped they didn’t think he cared.

……………………………………

Shawn woke with a quiet groan and a hand on his shoulder, gently shaking him awake while a young, frightened voice murmured,

“Mister? Are you okay?”

Forcing himself to consciousness, Shawn blinked rapidly and gazed around the dark basement. His head throbbed but he forced himself to ignore it as his attentio zeroed in on the four boys on te other side of the basement, seated together and watching him with wide, terrified eyes.

_ Well that’s a problem. _ He thought to himself.  _ Weren’t there five boys missing? _

“Sir?”

Oh. Right. The fifth boy was next to him. Hm, not good that he didn’t immediately notice that.  _ Dad would be disappointed. _ Sucking in a sharp breath and trying to both reorient himself and ignore the thoughts about his dad, Shawn looked over at the boy next to him, likely the eldest since he didn’t look as scared out of his mind as the others did.

“Hi,” Shawn greeted, holding out his hand and pulling up his curtain of bravado. “Shawn Spencer, Psychic Detective for the SBPD. “how are you doing?”

The boy blinked, caught off guard as he regarded Shawn’s hand before slowly returning the shake.

“Um...fine?”

“What’s your name?”

“Jackson.”

“Sweet, I’ve always liked that name,” Shawn said, mentally cheering when the boy gave a shaky smile. “So tell me, Jackon, how long have you known our friendly neighborhood kidnapper upstairs?”

Jackson frowned but Shawn could tell that his own lackadaisical attitude despite the terrifying situation was helping to cal the boy down (that for the fact that a  _ nice _ adult was there) because Jackson easily replied,

“He’s been my bus driver since I was in kindergarten.”

“So you know him well then?”

“Well...not really,” Jackson replied, shrugging. “But he was always nice.”

“Not so nice now, huh?” Shawn muttered, mostly to himself though by the way Jackson slightly recoiled, he had a feeling it hadn’t bee as quietly as he’d intended.

“What are you doing here?” Jackson asked.

“Well, I cam to investigate and sav you.”

“But how are you going to do that when you’re trapped down here with us?”

“Yeah, should have seen that coming I guess,” Shawn said with a shrug. “Oh well, learn and live, I always say.”

“I think it’s ‘live and learn’.”

“I’ve heard it both ways.”

Jackson pressed his lips together, leaning back on his heels and glancing over at the other boys on the other side of the basement before turning back to Shawn and asking,

“So what’s going to happen now?”

“Now, I’m going to play weak and defenseless until I can learn the routine here,” Shawn replied. “And the when I see my chance, I’m gonna either attack him or make a run for it.” he shrugged. “Whichever comes first I guess, we’ll figure that out later.”

“Are you just going to leave us here?” the boy asked quietly. “If you escape.”

“If I get out, I’ll get help as soon as possible. I’ll have Head Detective Lassiter ont he phone before you know it.” Shawn’s expression turned gentle. “I’m going to get you out of here, Jackson. All of you. I promise.”

For the first time in a long time, Jackson gave a genuine, albeit small, smile.

………………………………..

The routine was simple enough. Twice a day (at least, Shawn hoped it was a day and the guy wasn’t just messing with their perception of time) Jacob would come down and give them a meal that - considering their current kidnapped/hostage situation - was actually pretty decent.

He’d then sit on the bottom of the stairs and watch them eat - the boys all cuffed together at the ankles on one of the basement and Shawn cuffed to the wall on the other side - until they were finished. Then he’d take their plates and cups - all plastic - back up the stairs and return to help each of them one by one to use the restroom.

Every couple of days (again, Shawn hoped it was days bu the lack of a window made it hard to tell) he’d escort them to the top floor for a bath, but only after drugging them enough that they couldn’t fight back but thankfully not too much that they couldn’t wash themselves. 

He wasn’t a rapist, he’d insisted to Shawn several times when Shawn had struggled against the drugs. He had no interest in the boys beyond keeping them like pets. He hadn’t said that last part, but Shawn could guess.

So after a few days of guessing and calculating, Shawn finally decided to (try and) make his escape when he was let upstairs for the bathroom. Preferably after the bathroom, actually, cause oh boy did Shawn have to pee.

As soon as Jacob had gone to take their plates upstairs, Shawn shifted and clinked his cuffs together loudly enough to draw the boys’ attention but not loud enough to tip Jacob off about anything.

“As soon as I get upstairs, I’m going to try and escape, okay?” he told them. “Then I’ll go straight to the police and get help.”

“But what if he kills us?”

Admittedly, Shawn hadn’t really thought of that but since he hadn't gotten any vision or anything about Maxwell killing the boys after he escaped, he was sure they’d be fine.

“You're worth more to him alive then dead.”

…………………………………….

He should have known. Should have looked deeper into Jacob’s history, should have recognized those dumb muscles as a way of realizeing that man could  _ easily _ bodily lift Shawn without breaking a sweat.

God, why did he always have to be so stupid and run head first into everything without telling anyone or getting any backup?

If he ever got out of this, his dad was going to be so disappointed in him.

“I’ve had just about enough of you, psychic boy,” Jacob snarled as he lifted Shawn by the collar of his shirt from the floor where he’d thrown the psychic after thwarting Shawn’s failed attempt at escape. “I knew from the moment you showed up that you were going to be nothing but trouble.” Shawn groaned, letting out a sharp gasp when Jacob slammed him against the closed basement door. “Bouncing around, claiming to be my nephew. But I figured I’d keep you here, maybe teach you a thing or two about getting into shit that’s none of your business. Hell, I was even tempted to officially make you into one of my boys.” Shawn didn’t want to know what that meant. “But then those cops from the SBPD started digging around, asking questions, and I realized you weren’t quite as useless to them as you made me think.”

He growled, pulling Shawn away front he door only to slam him back into it a second later, the psychic’s head bouncing off the wood and drawing a low groan from the consultant.

_ Don’t do anything stupid, don’t antagonize him, don’t say anything stupid, don’t antagonize him, don’t tempt him into murder. _

“So what are you going to do?” Shawn asked, grabbing onto Jacob’s wrists in instinct fueled fear when the basement door flew open with the next slam of his body against the wood. “Kill me?”

_ Do you  _ ever _ shut up? _ Well good golly gee, that voice sounded a hell of a lot like Drimmer and wow, thanks psychic powers for giving him a flashback like that. He definitely wanted to be reminded of the last time he almost died in that very moment.

Really. Thanks. Super helpful.

Jacob snarled but seemed to collect himself near instantly, setting Shawn back on his feet and releasing his shirt, taking a small step back.

“I didn’t want to have to do this, Spencer,” he said calmly, reaching forward to smooth out Shawn’s shirt. “But you’re leaving me no choice. Maybe when you wake up, you’ll have learned your lesson about not pissing people off without backup.”

Shawn’s visions helpfully provided him with a flash of what fate was about to greet him mere seconds before Jacob shoved his hands into Shawn’s chest. Except this time, there was no door to save him and he could only gasp in terror as he began to fall.

He had maybe half a second to recall that the floor of the basement was hard, unforgiving concrete before he was flying down the stairs. 

Now he knew why he hadn’t gotten a vision of Maxwell killing the boys if he managed to escape.

Because he didn’t.

………………………………….

“And you call yourself Head Detective.”

Lassiter closed his eyes and tried to breathe through his irritation as he slowly looked away from his laptop towards Henry Spencer who was seated nearby with his arms crossed over his chest, looking nothing short of pissed.

“Is there something you would like to say to me directly, Mr. Spencer?” he asked calmly.

“Yeah, there is,” Henry responded hotly, ignoring the look Gus shot him. “It’s been one week, you know  _ damn well _ where Shawn is and you still haven’t gotten your ass over there.”

“Henry,” Juliet said gently. “I know you’re worried about Shawn. We all are. But we can’t go in there without a warrant, you know that?”

“And have you asked for a warrant or are you just waiting around on your asses for fun?” Henry demanded, aiming his anger at Lassiter instead of Juliet.

“Yes, we  _ have _ ,” Lassiter said, trying to keep his voice calm and even. “We’re just waiting to get it back.”

“We should have it any day now,” Juliet added, trying to help quell the tension.

“Any day now is one day too long,” Henry snapped. “So you need to find my son, Detectives. Before I take matters into my own hands.”

……………………………….

It was another three days before the warrant finally came in and no amount of coaxing, shouting, or threatening could stop Henry and Gus from riding along to Jacob Maxwell’s home, two squad cars following close behind.

“Took you damn long enough,” Henry growled even though he knew better than anyone how difficult it was to get a judge to sign off on warrants for something as small as, say, Gus’s car in a bush.

Lassiter decided to keep quiet and let Juliet handle the two in the backseat. At least until they pulled into the driveway and he turned off his car, turning around to jab a finger in Henry and Gus’s faces.

“You  _ stay _ int he car,” he growled. “Do you understand me?”

Henry opened his mouth to object bu Gus cut him off with a swift, “We understand, Detective Lassiter. Just go get Shawn and the boys.”

Lassiter grunted in reply before pushing himself out of the car, Juliet and the other officers quick on his heels as they headed for the front door.

“SBPD, open up!” Lassiter shouted as he pounded on the front door. He took a small step back, waiting less than patiently before storming forward and bashing his fist against the door with another shout of, “Open the  _ door _ , Maxwell!”

“ _ Carlton _ , just...relax,” Juliet hissed, making an aborted motion to hold him but never making contact before the front door opened and Jacob Maxwell appeared in the doorway.

“Good evening, Detectives,” he greeted, a frown on his face as his gaze jumped from Lassiter to Juliet and the officers behind them. “How can I-”

“Jacob Maxwell, you are under arrest for the suspected kidnapping of Psychic Detective Shawn Spencer and-”

Lassiter never got a chance to finish his declaration before Maxwell aimed a punch at his throat, turning and attempting to sprint into the house when his attack failed before it could land. 

Despite his muscles, Jacob was no match for two hundred pounds of angry detective and the fight was over before it began, Maxwell on the ground as two cops came over to cuff him and read him his rights while the others began searching the house.

“Where are the kids, Maxwell?” Lassiter demanded as the cops made to lead the kidnapper out of the house to his car.

Maxwell glared at him. “Fuck off,” he growled.

Lassiter leaned back, crossing is arms over his chest. “We’re going to find them sooner or later, so why don’t you make everyone’s life a little easier and-”

“Detective, over here!”

Lassiter instantly turned his back on Maxwell, walking over to where McNab was standing by the basement door, pointing to the splattering of blood spread across the wood at head level.

“It’s locked, sir,” McNab reported when Lassiter reached for the doorknob. The detective shot him a glare.

“Is it now?” he asked, letting his irritation - and fear that the blood might be Shawn’s - leak into his words. “I didn’t realize locked doors were such a problem for us.”

And then he kicked it open.

……………………………….

Shawn’s head throbbed, something bright and agonizing flashing behind his eyes any time he so much as twitched. It was slow growing but the pain in his head grew, a scream bubbling up in his throat but never escaping. 

Dimly, somewhere outside of the agony, Shawn was aware of rough sheets under his body, something sharp in the back of his hand and making ti feel chilled and numb. If he forced himself to focus on his body and not on the overwhelming pain, he could almost make out familiar voices around him.

“It’s been five weeks.”

“He had a really bad head wound, Gus. It’s going to take him awhile to wake up.”

“B-but none of the doctors seem worried and-”

“If they don’t seem worried then why are you, kid?”

“Cause it’s a not worried in the sense of there’s nothing they can do.”

“Exactly, Guster. If it’s out of their hands then it’s out of yours. At this point, all you can do now is wait.”

Shawn’s felt his fingers twitch without his permission as visions of the speakers flashed across the back of his eyelids. Gus, then Jules, then Gus, then Henry, then back to Gus, and then - surprisingly - Lassiter. Almost as soon as their images appeared, they were gone and darkness settled back across his vision.

But the pain continued to grow and the voices had gone quiet until-

“Shawn?” Henry.

“Did you see that? He moved, his fingers moved!” Gus.

“O’hara, go find a nurse just in case.” Lassiter.

_ The sound of feet against linoleum.  _ Juliet.

“Shawn?” Henry again. “Shawn, can you hear me?”  _ a hand over his.  _ “Open your eyes, kiddo.”

Shawn sucked in a soft, slow breath, fingers twitching over the hand on his. It took several tries and more than once, Shawn nearly fell back into the all encompassing darkness holding him down, but with one last final breath, Shawn woke.

He opened his eyes, spying Henry, then, Gus, then Lassiter.

Juliet and the nurse walked in just as he began to scream.


	2. Blue, Pink, and Gray

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shawn wakes up, sees auras, gets a case, and solves a murder all within two weeks

April 10th, 1993

When Shawn was sixteen years old was when his mom and dad really started using him as fuel against the other. Which, alright,  _ annoying _ but by that point he sort of just didn’t care anymore. Whenever they got to be too much, Shawn would just off and vanish to Gus’s house until his dad called and ordered him home.

Of course, because it was Shawn, he’d sometimes just ignore his dad for a few hours or the rest of the night since the lectures he got in the morning were just so worth it. Or at least, his mom’s doting afterwards was.

The incident in question was a few months after he’d gotten his driver’s license and had finally completed his motorcycle rider training course. Of course, he didn’t have high hopes of ever getting a bike because when he’d hopped home, beaming with his motorcycle license in hand, his father had declared that so long as Shawn lived under his roof, he wouldn’t own one of those ‘godforsaken death traps’.

Yeah, Shawn had expected as much.

…………………………………

“Goose, will you come outside? I have a surprise for you.”

Shawn - doing homework at the kitchen table while his father sat in the living room - eagerly perked up and abandoned his schoolwork to head outside where his mother had called from, his father following behind.

“Maddie, you can’t be serious!” Henry exclaimed while Shawn’s eyes went wide at the sight of the sleek, black motorcycle sitting int he driveway.

“Wait, really?” Shawn asked, rushing over to Madeleine Spencer who held out a set of keys, a smile on her face even as her eyes glared holes in Henry’s face as she replied,

“Of course, Shawnie. You’re sixteen and a very responsible boy. You’re smart and quick witted-”

“None of those things are going to save him in an accident,” Henry snapped, storming over and snatching the keys out of Shawn’s hands. “Damn it, Madeleine, you’re going to get him killed!”

“Shawn is a responsible driver, Henry,” Maddie snapped back while Shawn tried to pretend their argument wasn’t happening over his head and sort of because of him. “I trust him.”

“But can you trust every single  _ other _ driver on the road who might not be as responsible as he is?”

“No, but I trust that Shawn can handle himself.”

“Come on, dad, mom’s right!” Shawn said, finally inserting himself back into the conversation as he swung a leg over the bike and took a seat, hands on the handlebars and thrill in his veins. “I’m responsible, I keep a good eye out, and I’m aware!”

“That’s not going to help you avoid a crash from another reckless driver.”

“It’s not going to help me avoid a crash from another reckless driver if I’m driving in a car, either,” Shawn snapped, fury in his eyes. “But you let me get  _ that _ license!”

“Yeah, well, if I had had a say in it, you wouldn’t have either.”

…………………………….

When Shawn was sixteen years old, he started having visions. Quick, brief flashes of incidents about to come in seconds or incidents from mere seconds earlier.

When Shawn was seventeen years old, his visions became a bit more detailed.

When Shawn was thirty-two, his visions changed again.

………………………………

Now - 2008

The doctors had told them to expect pain.

The doctors had told them to expect confusion and memory loss.

The doctors had told them to expect Shawn to be in and out of consciousness for several days when he finally emerged from his coma.

Every day from the moment he was admitted, Shawn was never alone. His father would visit, Gus would visit, Juliet would visit, dozens of cops from the SBPD would visit, even Lassiter would stay for awhile.

The doctor had told them what to expect when Shawn woke up, but no one had told them to expect Shawn to wake up screaming the first time he regained consciousness.

No one had told them to expect him to wake up screaming the second time he regained consciousness.

No one had told them to expect him to wake up screaming the third, fourth, and fifth time he regained consciousness.

“We have him on as much painkillers as we can safely administer to someone with a severe brain injury,” the doctor explained gently ocne Shawn had been sedated after the sixth time he’d woken up screaming. “There’s nothing more we can do.”

Gus, spying the way Henry had curled his hands into fists in his lap, quickly interjected,

“We know, thank you.”

“We’ll take him down for another MRI later tonight, see if we can find anything that might be causing pain aside from the obvious,” Dr. Miller added.

“Thank you.”

Nodding and recognizing the subtle request for him to leave, Dr. Miller turned and made his exit. As soon as he was gone, Henry growled,

“Bastard doesn’t know anything.”

Gus silently agreed.

………………………………..

Henry and Gus spent most of the day at Shawn’s bedside and it wasn’t until later that Juliet - with a semi-reluctant Lassiter in tow - came to visit.

“Sorry we couldn’t come in any sooner,” Juliet said softly as they took their seats, the detectives glancing over at Shawn as they sat. “How is he?”

“Woke up screaming again this morning,” Gus supplied. “But he moved, which the doctors think is promising. Usually he just lays there and screams but today-”

“He curled in on himself and clutched his head,” Henry grunted, arms crossed over his chest and anger in his eyes at the memory. “Which is  _ good _ , apparently.”

Gus’s eyes went wide suddenly and he quickly turned to Henry and asked, “What about his visions?”

“Oh sweet justice, not this again,” Lassiter muttered, burying his head in his hands.

Henry frowned at Gus while Juliet watched on with a confused expression. “What do you mean?” she asked.

Henry sighed and rolled his eyes while Gus shifted in his seat and explained. “When Shawn was sixteen, he was in a motorcycle accident-”

“Despite me telling him  _ not _ to ride that damn thing,” Henry muttered.

Everyone ignored him and Lassiter even looked up as Gus carried on, speaking as though Henry hadn’t even opened his mouth.

“He was thrown from the bike and struck his head against the pavement, even though he had a helmet. When he woke up-”

“When he woke up a month later, he claimed he could predict the future,” Henry cut in with a sigh. “Claimed he could see things a few seconds before they actually happened.”

“Everyone told him he had deja vu but the visions changed and got stronger when we were seventeen, about a year later,” Gus chimed in once more. “He couldn’t see things coming but he could see things that had happened.”

“Like his abilities now,” Juliet guessed.

“Exactly. They’ve stayed pretty steady since then.”

“So you’re worried this knock to the head will have what?” Lassiter asked. “Gotten rid of his powers?”

“No, Gus is worried it will have made them worse,” Henry replied. “He thinks that’s why Shawn is screaming. He’s having visions when he wakes up.”

“Is there anyway to prove that?”

“You could ask me.”

“Shawn!” Gus cried as the four of them turned towards the man on the bed, the psychic’s voice raspy and eyes barely open, though there was no denying the smile on his face.

“How are you feeling?” Juliet asked while Henry slipped out of the room in search of a nurse or the doctor.

“Can’t complain,” Shawn replied, voice high and slightly giggly. “So. What’d I miss?”

…………………………………..

SEVERAL HOURS LATER

*Lassiter & Juliet have left

“I cannot begin to explain how lucky you are, Mr. Spencer,” the doctor explained sometime the next day after several cognitive tests had been conducted and another MRI had been run. “On every one of your tests, there appears to be no brain damage whatsoever.”

“What can I say?” Shawn said, beaming and happy to be sitting up in bed. “I’m invincible.”

“You most certainly are  _ not _ ,” Gus muttered before turning to the doctor as he asked, “Is there anything we should be looking out for in the future?”

“Well, some dizziness and balance complications,” the doctor listed off. “Memory difficulty, headaches, nausea and vomiting-”

“Yeah, yeah, lots of no-fun brain time, we got it,” Shawn cut in. “So when can I be released?”

“Shawn, you just woke up from a month long coma,” Henry said firmly.

“Your father is right,” Dr. Miller agreed. “I want to keep you for at least three more days for observation, just to make sure there’s no side effects that we missed.”

“But three days is so long,” Shawn whined. “I feel fine.”

“Because they’ve got you on a boatload of painkillers, Shawn,” Gus pointed out. “Once they’re gone-”

“Thank you, Dr. Miller,” Henry said, cutting Gus off.

“Do you have any questions?”

No one did so with a smile and a nod, Dr. Miller excused himself. As soon as he was gone, Shawn turned to Henry and said,

“Dad, I’m thirsty.” he beamed. “Will you go get me some water?”

“I can ask a nurse-”

“But dad you know I hate hospital water!” Shawn whined. “Can you go get me a bottle? Please, please, please!?”

Henry groaned as he heaved himself up and out of his chair. As soon as he was gone, Shawn turned to Gus and said,

“Okay, so, something’s off.”

“What, what’s wrong?” Gus asked, panicked. “Do I need to call the nurse?”

“No, no, no, not about that,” Shawn said, cutting him off. “About my visions.”

Gus’s eyes went wide. “They’ve changed?”

“I think I was having visions in my coma but I don’t remember any,” Shawn said. “But that’s not what’s weird.”

“Okay?”

“You have a blue light around you.”

Gus frowned, looking around himself before looking back to Shawn. “What are you talking about, Shawn?”

“I noticed this ever since I woke up, it’s giving me a headache actually.” Shawn shook his head. “Everyone has some sort of different colored light around them, like-like-”

“Like an aura?” Gus guessed, frowning and somehow remembering something he’d once read about psychics back when Shawn had first gotten his visions.

“ _ Exactly _ !”

“So you think the hit you took to the head made your visions stronger?” Gus asked. “Or at least, gave you more abilities?”

Shawn shrugged. “I could just be hallucinating.”

Gus hummed. “I’ll do some searching online once I get home, see what I can find about aura colors,” he decided.

Shawn grinned, patting Gus’s hand. “Thanks buddy. I knew I could count on you.”

…………………………….

Shockingly to everyone involved, Shawn was actually very well behaved for the next three days of his stay. He was nice and polite to the doctors and the nurses and never begged to go home earlier than the doctor had said. Didn’t even argue when Henry insisted - ordered - that Shawn was going to spend a week recovering at his house instead of heading back to his own place.

Of course, as soon as the week was up, Shawn was gone and out and pounding on Gus’s door despite the early hour.

“Shawn, it is eight in the morning,” Gus snapped when he answered the door. “You know I don’t get up until ten on weekends.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, I’ll make you coffee to wake you up,” Shawn said, waving him off as he let himself into the apartment, turning and clapping his hands together as Gus closed and locked the door. “So. What did you dig up on aura colors?”

“Quite a bit, actually,” Gus replied. “Then again, there’s no way of knowing how true it is.”

“Just tell me what you’ve got.”

“Well, you said I was blue, right?” Gus asked, snagging his laptop off the counter and bringing it over to the table while Shawn made himself at home and started a pot of coffee.

“Yup.”

“So in what I found, a blue aura means peace, stability, calmness, confidence, tranquility, sincerity, affection, integrity,” Gus listed off.

“Oh Gus, you are nowhere near calm,” Shawn said as he took a seat at the table while they waited for the coffee to brew. Gus scowled at him.

“It says that’s the overall meaning but not all the meanings fit in for every person, Shawn,” he pointed out hotly. “The meaning of blue depends on the person’s relationship with the physic. Blue can fit multiple people but not everyone fits into all of the meanings.”

Shawn shrugged. “That makes sense, I suppose,” he murmured. “Sort of. What about Jules?”

“What’s her color?”

“Pink.”

Gus hummed, scrolling through the aura document he’d composed so he could help Shawn figure everything out. “Pink means romance, compassion, faithfulness, beauty, love, friendship, sensitivity.”

“That sounds exactly like Jules,” Shawn agreed, nodding as he hopped up to retrieve the coffee, snagging his pineapple shaped mug that Gus kept just for him, along with one of the more boring pharmaceutical ones Gus had gotten in a job promotion a few years back.

“So have you had any more psychic visions?” Gus asked, accepting his coffee when Shawn returned to the table.

Shawn scratched the back of his neck as he took a sip of his way-too-hot coffee. 

“Honestly, I spent a lot of the last week asleep ‘cause of the pain meds the hospital sent home,” Shawn replied, shrugging. “I had some weird dreams but that’s par for the course of pain meds.”

“You don’t think they’re visions?”

Shawn opened his mouth to reply but before he could get a word out, his entire body went tense and he groaned, slumping forward as his eyes glazed over.

“Shawn!?” Gus cried, leaping up and running to his friend’s side, hands hovering over Shawn’s lightly trembling form. “W-what-”

“Your phone,” Shawn rasped in a voice nothing like his own. “A call and a knock at the door.”

Gus didn’t even have half a second to wonder what that meant before his cell phone started ringing from the bedroom at the same time as a knock sounded at the door. 

And then Shawn collapsed unconscious to the floor.

……………………………………

The person at the door actually happened to be Juliet and by the time she and Gus rushed back to Shawn’s side not ten seconds after Gus had gone to answer the door, Shawn was conscious and blinking rapidly as he pushed himself into a seated position off the floor.

“Are you okay?” Gus asked frantically while Juliet moved to his freezer to grab an ice pack, having been quickly informed of what happened by Gus. “Did you hit your head?”

“Nah, nah, I’m fine,” Shawn replied, wincing as he pushed himself upright, swaying slightly but waving away the ice pack that Juliet brought him. He groaned, grabbing his shoulder as he replied, “I think my shoulder took the brunt of the damage, ow.”

“What happened?” Juliet asked, handing Shawn the ice pack again, this time for his shoulder.

“I was asking if he’d had any visions and he said he’d had some dreams at his dad’s,” Gus explained after forcing Shawn to sit back down at the table. “He didn’t get a chance to explain before he suddenly went tense and said there was going to be a knock at the door and my phone was going to be going off.”

“That was weird, wasn’t it?” Shawn agreed with a small laugh.

“So you can see the future?” Juliet asked, frowning.

“When he first got his abilities, he was able to see a few seconds into the future,” Gus supplied. “No one really ever believed him though.”

“It’s just deja vu, Shawn,” Shawn said in a mocking tone that only slightly resembled his father. “You’re not psychic, Shawn. Knock it off, Shawn.”

“By no one, I assume you mean his dad,” Juliet guessed.

Gus shrugged. “That obvious?”

“So, Jules,” Shawn said, only wincing a bit when he lowered the ice pack from his shoulder. “What brings you by Gus’s humble abode so early on this fine Friday morning?”

“It’s Saturday, Shawn,” Gus corrected.

“I’ve heard it both ways.”

“The chief asked me to stop by and check on you,” Juliet replied. “I stopped by your place and when you didn’t answer, I figured this is where you’d be.”

“Right on, my friend,” Shawn said, snapping his fingers in Juliet’s direction. “Do we have a case?”

“Tell me we don’t,” Gus begged before the detective could answer. “Shawn’s only been out of the hospital for a week and before that, he was kidnapped for a week and in a coma for a month!”

“And those were the most boring two weeks and month of my life,” Shawn drawled. “Please tell me we have a case, Jules.”

Juliet hesitated for a moment before sighing. “I really shouldn’t, Shawn,” she replied.

Shawn perked up anyway. “So we have a case?” he asked eagerly.

“Technically-”

“Jules I am perfectly fine-”

“You just passed out and fell on the floor, Shawn!”

“-to work a case and I am going up the wall with nothing to do. Please, please, please!?”

Juliet sighed. “Fine, but the Chief asked me to make you agree to some rules before you’re allowed to come anywhere near the crime scene.”

“Okay, what are they?”

“You have to listen to Lassiter and I. If we tell you to leave, you need to leave. If you’re not feeling well, you need to leave.”

“But Jules-”

“I’m sorry, Shawn, it’s the chief’s rules,” Juliet said, crossing her arms and staying firm on the rules. Shawn pressed his lips together before tossing the ice pack at Gus and bouncing to his feet, clapping his hands together as he asked,

“When do we start?”

……………………………………

“Oh, sweet justice, what is  _ he _ doing here!?” Lassiter shouted when he looked up from the corpse to find Shawn and Gus getting out of the latter’s stupid blue car. Although, if he was honest, he was glad to see Shawn on his feet and nowhere near death warmed over like he’d looked in the hospital.

The detective had visited every single day that Shawn had been in a coma but had only visited once after the psychic had woken up. Ever since then, he’d been silently worried about the other’s condition while simultaneously trying to punch down his own stupid bisexual feelings about the younger male.

“The chief invited him here on the deal that he followed the rules,” Juliet explained.

“The rules,” Lassiter mocked. “Which are?”

“He has to listen to us and leave if we tell him to,” Juliet listed off, looking over with a smile when she found Gus and Shawn catching up with Buzz, though a frowned took over her smile when she saw how unfocused Shawn’s eyes seemed to be, the way he didn’t seem to be entirely paying attention to the conversation. “And he has to leave if he’s not feeling well.”

“Right, like  _ that’s _ going to happen,” Lassiter muttered, rolling his eyes and scowling as the Idiot Duo approached.

“Lassie-face!” Shawn chirped, hopping over to the Head Detective’s side. “It is so good to see you! How have you been!?”

“What are you doing here, Spencer?” Lassiter snapped.

“Why I was summoned, Lassie,” Shawn replied. “By our mutual pal, good ol’ Chief Vick!”

Lassiter sighed, shaking his head and waving a dismissive hand at the psychic.

“Whatever, just stay out of my way.”

“Aye, aye,” Shawn replied, giving Lassiter a mock solute before he and Gus followed Juliet into the victim’s house.

“So as you can see from the blood trail, he was killed here in his living room and dragged out to the front yard,” Juliet said, pointing at the blood while keeping a close eye on Shawn. “There’s no murder weapon that we could find but we know we’re looking for a knife on account of the multiple stab wounds on the body.”

Shawn hummed quietly, eyes glazed over where he was staring at the large puddle of blood at their feet where the victim had been murdered.

“Shawn?” Gus asked quietly, trying not to throw up on the crime scene. “You getting anything?”

Shawn was silent for a moment before pointing in the direction of the front door, speaking as Lassiter walked in.

“The guy out there is  _ a _ victim but he’s not  _ the _ victim from in here.”

That got Lassiter’s attention and he frowned as he walked over to the psychic. “What are you talking about, Spencer? Are you blind or just ignoring all the blood and stab wounds and-”

“The victim outside and the victim in here share the same murderer or attacker,” Shawn said, eyes still glazed over and focused on the blood at his feet, even as his hands gestured in each direction he was referencing. “Yes, our victim from in here was dragged outside but he was replaced by the victim on the front yard.”

“Why?” Juliet asked while Lassiter merely rolled his eyes. “Why go through the effort of replacing the body, especially if you killed both?”

Shawn tilted his head to the side. “Maybe the inside victim wasn’t dead.”

“Again,” Lassiter drawled. “Are you missing all the-”

“Some of it’s blood, yes,” Shawn cut in, not lifting his head. “But most of it is paint.”

Juliet blinked. “The victim from inside-”

“Isn’t dead, no, he’s been kidnapped by the murderer of the man outside.”

“Why though?” Gus asked. “Why go through the effort.”

Shawn hummed, opening his mouth and looking like he was about to say something before he suddenly snapped his mouth closed, turned, and left.

………………………………………

“Shawn, are you okay?” Gus asked, seated at his desk in the psych office while Shawn paced the floor back and forth and back and forth, again and again and again. “You’ve been acting weird since we left the crime scene.”

“You and Jules were right, why go through all the effort of faking a death for a kidnapping?” Shawn asked. “And why use a body  _ you _ killed, why leave something that could have your DNA on it? And how did our killer slash kidnapper get into the house to begin with?”

“Maybe he knew the victim?” Gus suggested

“Maybe he knew the victim,” Shawn repeated, eyes going wide as he lifted his head and stared at Gus. “Maybe he knew the victim!”

“Yeah, I-Shawn!” Gus leapt to his feet but was too slow, staring after Shawn as the psychic took off running, booking it out of the office and down the boardwalk. Mere seconds after he’d left, Juliet and Lassiter walked in.

“Was that Shawn?” Juliet asked, frowning.

“Yeah.”

“What happened, did he get a lead?”

“Nope,” Gus replied. “I just suggested that maybe our kidnapping victim knew his kidnapper and Shawn took off.”

“Is that normal for him?”

“Shawn’s been acting weird since he got out of the hospital,” Gus told them. “And I think it has something to do with his powers getting stronger.”

“What makes you think that?”

“They got stronger out of the blue when we were seventeen,” Gus explained. “When he first got them, like I explained while he was in the hospital, they were just quick deja vu flashes. When we were seventeen, they got stronger and showed the past instead of the future. When that happened, he acted weird.”

“As weird as he’s been acting now?” Juliet asked.

“Exactly.” something flashed in Gus’s eyes suddenly before he said, “After this happened the first time, I convinced him to go see a psychic named Madame Maria.”

“Another fraud.”

“No, she’s real,” Gus said. “Sure, there are a lot of frauds but there are some real ones too and she taught Shawn and I how to tell the difference.”

“What’s so important about her?” Juliet asked.

“When Shawn’s visions changed, she’s the one who helped him learn to control and master them,” Gus explained. “Right now, his powers control him. That’s why he was so off at the crime scene. He was getting more input than before. Such as the aura colors he can see on everyone.”

“Aura colors?” Lassiter asked, skeptically.

“Yeah, like my aura’s blue which means stability, Juliet’s is pink which means friendship, and yours is gray.”

“Meaning?”

“Authority.”

Lassiter grunted. “So what does this have to do with Spencer taking off?”

Gus shifted. “I don’t think that was Shawn taking off.”

The Head Detective scowled. “What are you suggesting, he was possessed?”

“Yes.”

Lassiter blinked. “By what?”

“Shawn can’t see ghosts, at least not that he’s told me,” Gus explained. “But that doesn’t mean he can’t feel them. Sort of. It’s complicated, I didn’t understand when Madame Maria explained it before and I don’t understand it now. But she basically said that when a psychic’s powers grow, that energy starts to race through them and sometimes takes control. It’s why Shawn traveled so much and never stayed in one place or job after high school.”

“It’s sort of like an itch,” Juliet guessed. “Almost like how people with ADHD have trouble sitting still.”

“Exactly.” a worried look past over Gus’s face. “We need to find Shawn. Right now, he’s not entirely in control of his own actions and he might get hurt.”

“Any idea where he’s headed?”

“No.”

………………………………..

They didn’t find Shawn that day, but Juliet and even Lassiter had promised to keep an eye out for them while Gus gave Henry a heads up. Juliet had even let the chief know what was going on and some of Shawn’s police friends were given a heads up.

Everyone who was close with the psychic found themselves worried about where the young Spencer could be but no one was more worried than Gus who found himself pacing back and forth in Henry’s kitchen, one week after Shawn had gone racing out of the office, a violent storm raging outside.

“He’ll be fine, Gus,” Henry assured, even though he himself was growing worried by this point. “He’s Shawn.”

“He’s Shawn with stronger powers who isn’t in his right mind,” Gus pointed out.

“Well think of it this way, Gus, what would you do if he was here?” 

“Probably see if we could track down Madame Maria, see if she could help since she helped with this last time.”

“Not well though,” Henry guessed. “Since Shawn still took off.”

“He took off because he gave in,” Gus corrected. He frowned. “Did Shawn never explain it to you?”

Henry sighed as Gus took a seat at the table. “Gus, I never believed he was psychic,” he said. “And I hardly believe it now. But I know there are things he has done and proved that he couldn’t have done unless he was psychic.”

“So you believe him.”

“I don’t know.” Henry shifted in his seat. “So explain it to me. If this Madame Maria helped so much, why did he still take off?”

“He’s supposed to go through this long meditation routine once a week,” Gus explained. “But when things went down with you and his mom-”

“He got upset and stopped doing it.”

“Well, sort of,” Gus corrected. “Madame Maria said that the feeling and urge to give in and go is always going to be there, the meditation just numbs it and helps Shawn be the one in control. So when he turned eighteen and realized he could legally leave you-”

“He stopped meditating and just gave in.”

“I think using his powers with the SBPD has helped in place of the meditation because I highly doubt he’s been meditating once a week since he came back to Santa Barbara,” Gus went on. “But now that his powers have increased is when he really needs to start meditating again to regain control. But he hasn’t been-”

“So his powers are still in control.”

“Yeah. Or at least, whatever takes possession of him. A spirit or something, I didn’t understand it but I’m sure Shawn can explain better than I did.”

At that exact moment, they heard a crash of thunder at the same time as a knock sounded at the door. Frowning and wondering what idiot was wandering around in a torrential rainstorm, Henry stood and walked over to answer the door.

On the porch stood Shawn, pale and soaked to the bone but no less grinning as if he hadn’t been missing for a week.

“I found the killer.”


	3. You're A Tether, Lassie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carlton shifted in his seat, leaning away from the desk to give ‘Madame Maria’ his full attention.
> 
> “What are you here for?”
> 
> “I am aware of your feelings for Mr. Spencer,” Madame Maria replied, crossing one leg over the other. “Did you know he reciprocates them?”
> 
> “What?”

Carlton was working late at the station, both out of choice but also because he really didn’t feel like running to his car in the rainstorm outside. Juliet had left several hours earlier, bidding him goodnight and asking him not to stay too late before she headed out into the storm.

Now Carlton was alone in the bullpen, looking over every piece of evidence in their current ‘murder-kidnapping’ case even as his mind continued to wander towards the station’s resident psychic.

It had been over a week since Spencer had torn out of his little office and so far, there had been no sign of him. And even as Carlton tried so hard to fight down his own feelings, there was no denying that he’d become drawn and attracted to the psychic, so much so that each thought on what might be happening to the young man brought about an odd sense of fear and worry in his chest.

“Head Detective Lassiter?”

Carlton looked up, frowning just slightly at the woman who approached, dressed in a white dress with an off the shoulder top, feet bare and a deep purple shawl wrapped around her arms. Her brown hair was long and thick, curled at her waist and adorned with golden jewels that matched her bangles and ankle bracelets.

“Yes?” Carlton asked, shifting slightly. “Can I help you?”

“No,” the woman replied as she took a seat in the chair next to Carlton’s desk. “But I think I can help you.”

“Excuse me?”

“I would like to talk to you about your position in Shawn Spencer’s life.”

Carlton blinked.  _ Excuse me? _ “Who are you?” he demanded.

“My name is Madame Maria, I am a psychic here in Santa Barbara. Mr. Spencer is one of my Neophytes. I am the one who helps him learn to control his powers.”

_ Yeah right. _

“I wouldn’t lie to you, Detective. And please keep your thoughts to yourself.” she smiled at the shock in Carlton’s face. “Yes, I can read your mind.”

Carlton shifted in his seat, leaning away from the desk to give ‘Madame Maria’ his full attention.

“What are you here for?”

“I am aware of your feelings for Mr. Spencer,” Madame Maria replied, crossing one leg over the other. “Did you know he reciprocates them?”

Carlton blinked. “What?”

“You and Mr. Spencer share a special bond,” Maria went on. “While Shawn is a Psychic, you are what we call a Tether.”

“Which is?”

“For each Psychic, their powers give them this overwhelming urge to move. To travel and move and never stay in one place. Similar to the circus people incorrectly known as gypsies.”

“I see.”

“Have you ever wondered what exactly makes Mr. Spencer want to stay here in Santa Barbara instead of traveling like he’s done since high school? Why he’s suddenly inclined to remain here when he’s spent years running away?”

_ Yes. _ “If he was that tied to this place, he wouldn’t have taken off a week ago.”

“Yes, he took off, but he never left Santa Barbara,” Maria corrected. “He came to me. He’s been with me for a week, working to control himself.”

“I thought you just said he had an urge to travel because he’s a psychic.”

“I did,” Maria replied. “I also said you were a Tether.”

“And I asked what that is.”

“A Tether is a man or a woman in a psychic’s life who grounds them,” Maria explained. “Who soothes that itch and urge to move and gives them a reason to stay. For many psychics, staying in one place without a Tether can be painful. But a Tether keeps a psychic calm and comfortable with the idea of staying in one place.”

“What does that have to do with my...feelings for Spencer?” Carlton asked after glancing around to double check that no one was listening in.

“You were born before Mr. Spencer, about nine years earlier,” Maria said. “It was right around when you were nine that you realized you liked boys and girls, yes?”

“Yes. So?”

“Mr. Spencer was born pansexual, as all psychics are. From the moment he was born, you became his Tether. You are, in more simple terms, soulmates.”

“And in less cliche, less simple terms?”

“Rialtas”

_ Right. _ “So I’m bisexual because of him.”

“In a sense.”

“Does everyone have a soulmate?”

“No. Only psychics and their Tethers.”

_ Right. _ “Does Spencer know? That I’m his...Tether or his soulmate or whatever?”

“Deep down, he is drawn to you and attracted, but he doesn't know the true reason.”

“And you’ve never bothered to tell him.”

“It is not my job to tell the psychic of his Tether. It is the Tether’s job to find and ground the psychic.”

“Why?”

“You’re the one who is meant to keep him here.”

“If I’m his Tether and we’re meant to be,” Carlton drawled. “Then why did I hate him up until recently?”

Maria didn’t even blink. “Did one or both of you suffer a near death experience recently?”

_ “That’s your suicide note. It explains how Spencer psychically figured out it was you-” _

_ “I believe the term you’re looking for is divined. Ow!” _

_ “Spencer  _ divined _ it was you who killed Chavez and Loggins and he was going to go to the chief with it. So you shot him. You being former lovers and all.” _

“Perhaps,” Carlton replied, shaking the memory out of his head.

Maria smiled. “You should ask Mr. Spencer out on a date. He’ll say yes.”

Carlton scowled down at the papers in front of him and when he looked back up, Madame Maria was gone.

……………………………

Carlton continued to think on Madame Maria’s visit the rest of the night and even into the next day, only drawn out of his drifting thoughts when Juliet got his attention and said,

“Shawn’s okay, he’s at his dads.”

“He just showed up out of the blue?” Carlton asked. “Where the hell has he been?”

_ You know where he’s been. _

“He never said,” Juliet replied, shaking her head. “But he’s on his way now, he said he knows who the killer and kidnapper is.”

“How is that possible?” Carlton demanded. “There’s been no new evidence.”

“Well, Shawn has been who knows where for the last week,” Juliet said with a helpless shrug as she took a seat at her desk. “Maybe he found something. Gus did say his powers were stronger, maybe that has something to do with it.”

“Maybe,” Carlton muttered, not quite convinced especially since Madame Maria (assuming her visit hadn’t been a coffee induced hallucination) had claimed Shawn had been with her all week. “Maybe.”

………………………

An hour later, the silence of the station was interrupted by an all too familiar voice declaring,

“I’m back!”

Carlton barely stopped the relief he felt from flashing across his face as he and Juliet looked up to find Shawn strolling confidently in, a large grin on his face while Gus followed close behind.

“Hi Shawn,” Juliet said, smiling brightly when he approached their desks. “How are you feeling?”

“Better than ever, actually,” Shawn replied, something more serious flashing over his face as he scratched the back of his neck and said. “I wanted to apologize. For taking off and not contacting anyone.”

“Where were you?”

“I have a mentor, sort of,” Shawn explained. “Another Psychic who helps me control my abilities. I was with her, trying to fight the urge to run.”

“Madame Maria, right?” Juliet asked. “Gus told us about her.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Shawn said, clearing his throat. “Anyway, I’ve been working on that.” he chuckled. “I forgot how overwhelming the need to  _ go _ is whenever my abilities kick up in strength.”

“Is it painful?”

“Imagine ants burrowing under your skin and running up and down your veins.”

“Shawn, I  _ told _ you not to use that visual,” Gus snapped, shuddering. “You know I hate ants.”

“You hate bugs of any kind,” Shawn corrected.

“Can we just get to the reason you’re here?” Carlton demanded. “O’hara said you figured out who the kidnapper is.”

“Oh, yeah,” Shawn replied, nodding. “It’s no one.”

Juliet blinked. Carlton blinked. Gus looked exhausted. “No one?” Carlton repeated.

“No one.”

“Great,” the head detective said cheerfully, slamming his file closed as he got to his feet and walked over to insert himself into Shawn’s personal space, the psychic not fazed in the least. In fact, he almost seemed to relax. “Well I’ll tell the chief to call off the search for our missing man, won’t I?”

“You misunderstand.”

“Do I?” Carlton drawled, backing up and dropping down into his seat. “Then enlighten me.”

“Our dead guy was Pastor Johnathan Coppers, a priest for some local traveling church,” Shawn began. “Our missing guy is Arthur Jackson, a stubborn anti-god-” Shawn cut himself and turned to Gus. “What are they called?”

“Atheists, Shawn.”

“Yeah, that. So Coppers comes to preach the gospel at Jackson, trying to sway the dude to join his church. But they’ve been butting heads for years and while it’s turned into a joke on Coppers’ side, it’s not funny to Jackson anymore.”

“Are you saying Jackson killed him and then ran?”

“Yep.”

“Well that’s great, Spencer, we know our killer,” Carlton said and even though it sounded like a compliment (it was, sort of), everyone was just waiting for the next shoe to drop. And sure enough, the detective quickly followed his praise up with, “So where’s Jackson?”

Shawn snapped his fingers. “Haven’t figured that out yet.”

“Of course you haven’t.”

“Hey man, I’ve been high on incense for the last week, it’s amazing I got  _ that _ much.”

…………………………………..

Though he wouldn’t admit it to anyone, Carlton spent most of that night searching everything he could find on psychics, Tethers, soulmates, and one Madame Maria.

From what he could find, Madame Maria’s real name was Mary-Anne Macintosh. She was only a few years older than Carlton himself and had no brothers or sisters. Like Shawn, she had helped the police in cases as an anonymous tipper. Unlike Shawn, she stopped helping when they got suspicious.

Then she’d simply vanished for a few years before reappearing back in Santa Barbara with her own Psychic/fortune teller shop only a few stores down from Shawn’s own Psych agency. Something Lassiter did not think was a coincidence.

She lived in a backroom of her shop and otherwise, there was no additional information.

But aside from that, Carlton was able to find information on everything she’d told him. He leaned back at his desk with a huff, glaring at his computer screen and ignoring the look Juliet was giving him. So far, the day had been relatively calm. Not that that was good when they were looking for a runaway murderer.

It had been two weeks since Spen- _ Shawn _ had come in with his revelation and he hadn’t been back since. Where he’d been and what he’d been doing was anyone’s guess. There had even been a few times where Guster had come, asking after Shawn and leaving disappointed and worried that his friend wasn’t there.

“Is something on your mind, Carlton?”

Carlton looked up, staring at Juliet before asking, “It’s about Spencer.”

“Are you worried? I’m sure he’s fine.”

Carlton cleared his throat, thinking about backing out before finally taking the plunge and replying,

“I was thinking of...asking him for dinner. Whenever he comes back from whatever hole he’s vanished into.”

Juliet blinked, frowning at him before asking, “Out for dinner like...like a date?”

“If that’s what he’d like it to be.”

Juliet’s eyes went wide. “Carlton, are you...I-I didn’t know-”

“I’m bisexual.” may as well bite the bullet, he supposed.

“Wow. Yeah, you should. I think he’d love to go out with you, whether it’s dinner or a date.”

“Well, next time I see him I’ll be sure to ask.”

“Ask me what?”

Carlton flinched, cursing under his breath as he turned to find Shawn seated on a desk behind him, beaming.

“Hi Lassie,” the psychic said cheerfully as he pranced around to seat himself on the edge of Carlton’s desk, flashing Juliet a bright smile before turning back to Carlton. “What’s up? What did you want to ask me?”

“How can you know I wanted to ask you something but not know what I wanted to ask?”

“It’s a gift, what can I say?” Shawn replied, still beaming. “So? What’s up Lassie-fras?”

Carlton sucked in a breath and almost backed out at the last minute but a helpful (if slightly annoying) nod from Juliet had him steeling his resolve and asking in a quick rush,

“Will you go to dinner with me?”

Shawn blinked. Then he blinked again. Then he asked, “Like as a date?”

“If you want,” Juliet chimed in when it was clear that Carlton had no intention of replying.

“Why Lassie,” Shawn said in a weirdly soft and serious voice. “I’d love to. What time and where?”

……………………………….

“You’re in a good mood for someone who’s decided to just randomly vanish off the face of the Earth for days at a time,” Gus commented, watching Shawn flounce into the psych office. “Where have you been this time?”

“Seeing the sights, my friend,” Shawn replied as he dropped into his desk chair and proceeded to spin around. “Working with lovely Madame Maria.”

“Oh good, so you won’t get possessed again?” Gus asked, raising an eyebrow. “Cause that was freaky.”

“Nope,” Shawn replied, finally kicking his feet up on his desk as he stopped spinning. “Possession’s only gonna happen if I go more than seventy-two hours without sleep or if I’m severely injured.”

“Okay, good,” Gus said. “What possessed you, anyway?”

“Madame Maria wasn’t entirely sure,” Shawn replied. “She said without being around me during a possession, she can’t tell since whatever it was didn’t leave any residual trail behind.”

“Well that’s good, right?” Shawn shrugged, pushing his chair away from the desk to begin spinning around and around again. Gus watched him for a few moments before sighing, dropping his chin into his palm as he said, “Alright Shawn, I’ll bite. What exciting thing happened today?”

Shawn stilled, spinning to face Gus with a beaming smile on his face as he replied, 

“Lassie asked me out on a date.”

Gus blinked, staring in shock and confusion before sitting up and saying, “A date as in a romantic dinner?”

Shawn shrugged. “Dinner at least.”

“Wait, hang on, when you say Lassie,” Gus said, holding up his hands. “Do you mean Detective Lassiter? As in Head Detective for the Santa Barbara Police Department who has hated your guts since day one and made it his life’s mission to convince everyone you’re a fraud?”

“How many Lassiters do you know?” Shawn asked. “Yeah, that Lassiter.”

“I thought he hated you.”

“So did I,” Shawn replied, shrugging. “But I think Madame Maria talked to him.”

“How can you be so sure? And don’t say it’s because you’re Psychic, we both know that’s not how your abilities work.”

Shawn shrugged, dropping his hand from where it had been drifting to his temple.

“Madame Maria has a purple aura and I’ve noticed it kinda seeps into the auras of people who have interacted with her,” Shawn explained. “For example, my aura is yellow but after I spent a week with her, I noticed the tips of my aura had turned purple.”

“Internesting,” Gus mused, opening his laptop to add that to the document he and Shawn shared where they logged any new psychic stuff they learned. “So Detective Lassiter’s aura is naturally gray but now it had some purple in it?”

“Yep.”

“Is it permanent?”

“No, it goes away after a few days,” Shawn replied. “It’s like a stain but it washes out over time.”

“Cool. So when are you and Lassiter going on your date?”

Shawn beamed.

………………………

Shawn wasn’t anxious. Not one bit. Not even when Lassiter showed up on his doorstep at four forty-five that evening.

“I hope I’m not too early,” the detective said after they’d stood their awkwardly for a few seconds.

“No, you’re right on time,” Shawn replied as he stepped out and turned to close his door. If he was being honest, he’d spotted Lassiter’s car out front about forty-five minutes early and had simply let the man sit in thought until he showed up at Shawn’s door at four forty-five, exactly when he said he’d be there.

“So,” Lassiter said, clearing his throat and looking awkward as hell as they headed over to his car and got inside. “Did you have...anywhere in mind?”

“Lassie,” Shawn drawled, turning to face the detective and hoping the man couldn’t see his hands shaking. “Did you ask me out without having any other plan if I said yes?”

Lassiter’s avoidance of Shawn’s eyes was answer enough so Shawn decided to clear his throat and ask,

“Did Madame Maria tell you to ask me out?”

“No.”

“Lassie, Lassie, Lassie,” Shawn mocked but making sure to grin so the detective knew he was joking. “Don’t lie to a psychic. Don’t you know I can see into your soul?” Lassiter jolted and Shawn chuckled, reaching over to pat his arm. “Don’t worry, I’m just joking.”

“I knew that,” Lassiter muttered as he turned the car on and pulled his seatbelt over his shoulder, Shawn doing the same as the detective put the car in drive and pulled out of the spot. “So I was thinking that italian place, a few blocks away from the station?”

“So you can come running back just in case they need something?”

Lassiter glanced at him, shifting in his seat as he pulled onto the road and murmured, “I told them I’m busy tonight. They know they can’t call me in unless it’s absolutely critical.”

Shawn blinked. Then he blinked again. Then he placed a hand on his chest and grinned,

“You did that just for me? Oh Lassie, I’m touched!”

Lassiter hummed but Shawn didn’t miss the little smile on his face. They drove in silence for a few moments until Lassiter broke the quiet.

“I have a question.”

“Shoot.”

“What’s a Tether?” Lassiter glanced over at Shawn as he asked when they’d pulled up to a stop light. Shawn is returning the look, a small amount of confusion in his eyes.

“Depends on what context you’re referring to,” Shawn replied, even though he and Lassiter both know Shawn’s well aware of the context Lassiter’s asking in.

“Psychics.”

“Ah.” was Shawn’s reply. “Well, what did Madame Maria tell you?”

The detective shot him a look as he pulled forward when the light turned green. “How did you know I talked to Madame Maria?”

“I’m psychic, Lassie,” Shawn replied with a grin. “Also your aura has some purple in it which is what really gave it away.”

Lassiter shifted, unsure of what that even meant. “Right.”

“So what did Madame Maria tell you?”

“Tethers are a psychic’s soulmate,” Lassiter began, suddenly wishing they were at the restaurant already so he could stuff his face and avoid talking about this. “Their reason for staying in one place. Usually psychics travel but a Tether keeps them grounded.”

“It helps them control their abilities, too,” Shawn replied. “And depending on the Tether’s strength, they can help the psychic gain new abilities or unlock abilities as well.”

“I see.”

Shawn hesitated for a moment before asking, “Did Madame Maria tell you you were my Tether?”

Lassiter side-eyed him. “What makes you think that?”

“Well you asking for one thing,” Shawn listed off. “You knowing the word for another, and the fact that I’m the only psychic around that I know of.”

Lassiter nodded. “Yes,” he confirmed. “She did say I was your Tether.”

Shawn pressed his lips together. “You don’t have to be,” he said quietly. “If you’re just asking me to dinner because you think you have a requirement, you don’t. I know Madame Maria might have made you feel like you have a requirement to be my Tether but-”

“Spencer.”

Shawn snapped his mouth shut instantly, surprising Lassiter who had expected he’d have to shout to get the psychic to shut up. Clearing his throat in the unexpected silence, he went on with what he’d been intending to say.

“You infuriated me, right up until the incident with Drimmer.” Lassiter shifted, adjusting his grip on the wheel as he added softly, “Perhaps before, if I’m being honest.”

“Are you being honest?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Good.” Shawn nodded before murmuring, “I…” he cleared his throat. “I think I’ve liked you for a bit, too.”

“It’s because of the connection, I suppose,” Lassiter guessed.

“It doesn’t have to be,” Shawn said quickly. “If you don’t want. There’s a way to remove it.”

“Would someone else become your Tether if I wasn’t?”

“No.”

“Then I don’t mind.” Shawn’s eyes went wide as they pulled into the parking lot and Lassiter shut off the car before turning to him. “We’re soulmates, apparently, as stupid and cliche as that is. May as well accept it, I suppose.”

“Yeah,” Shawn murmured as they got out of the car. “I suppose so.”

…………………………………

“If it’s all the same to you, Spen... _ Shawn _ ,” Lassiter said later that evening as he drove Shawn back home after dinner. “I would prefer that we... _ not _ let anyone at the station-”

“No need to worry yourself, Mr. Salt-and-pepper hair,” Shawn cut in with a beaming smile. “Nothing’s going to change, I promise you that. No one at the station will know.”

“Right.” Lassiter wondered if the psychic could tell how skeptical he was. “Thanks.”

“No problemo.”

The drive fell into silence for a few moments but it wasn’t an awkward silence like it had been on their way to dinner. It was comfortable though broken by Lassiter who heaved a sigh and asked,

“You already told Guster we were going to dinner.”

“Of course I told Gus, he’s my best friend,” Shawn replied. “But he won’t tell anyone. The only other person who might know or find out is Madame Maria but, you know…”

“I do,” Lassiter replied, remembering the way she’d read his mind that night they’d met. A sudden thought occurred to him and he suddenly asked, “Can you read minds?”

Shawn’s immediate response was to laugh. “No, of course not,” he replied. “Mind reading is actually a very rare ability and only very strong and powerful psychics can do it.”

“Like Madame Maria.”

“Exactly like Madame Maria,” Shawn confirmed. “It’s real annoying, actually, at times but it’s also great if you don’t feel like talking.”

“Sounds like we should have hired her as our psychic consultant instead of you.”

“Ouch, Lassie,” Shawn said, feigning hurt with a hand on his chest. “I’m hurt. And for your information, she never would have worked as a consultant.”

“Oh? And how do you know that?”

“Cause we are very similar,” Shawn replied. “She used to call in tips to the police like I did. She was suspected of working for the criminal, like I was. Except unlike me, she just told them she had eidetic memory and hyper observational skills. Then when they let her go, she left.”

_ I did read that. _ Lassiter recalled. “Well, good to know she has better self-preservation skills than you do,” he remarked.

Shawn chuckled. “Oh Lassie.  _ Everyone _ has better self-preservation skills than I do.”

The Detective couldn’t argue with that one. “Is that a psychic thing?” he found himself asking.

Shawn’s eyes lit up and he clapped his hands together like a child on Christmas. “Ooh, good  _ boy _ Lassie,” he mocked, the detective rolling his eyes. “Yes, it is a psychic thing. Not all Psychic’s deal with it though, it’s sort of one of those kinda rare things and usually just for those who are ‘younger’. As they get older, most psychic’s learn to have better ability to keep themselves not dead.”

“Interesting.” and it was, despite Lassiter’s tone sounding sarcastic and uninterested.

“In all seriousness, Detective Lassiter,” Shawn said suddenly, shocking Lassiter with the formal title. “If tonight was because Madame Maria suggested it and to keep her off your back, that’s fine. Really, I understand, god knows I’ve done plenty of stupid shit just because she suggested it and to keep her off my back.”

Lassiter sighed as he pulled into the parking space in front of Shawn’s dry-cleaner apartment.

“I...do have... _ feelings _ ...for...you,” Lassiter said, slowly and painstakingly, without ever looking up from the center console, though Shawn said absolutely nothing. “And... _ perhaps _ ...we could go...again.”

“Sure,” Shawn replied easily, not once commenting on Lassiter’s slow delivery. “Just name a time and place.”

“I have one condition about this...whatever it may be between us, Spencer,” Lassiter said firmly, finally bringing his gaze up to Shawn’s face.

“Name it.”

“We do not speak of it at the station. Everything stays  _ the same _ at the station.”

Shawn’s smile was gentle. “You have my word. And hey, if you’re ever curious about any of this Tether stuff, don’t hesitate to ask me. Even if I don’t know the answer, I don’t mind asking Madame Maria for you.”

Shockingly to the both of them, Lassiter smiled too. “Thanks Spencer,” Lassiter said, nodding. “Let’s get you inside.”

He reached for his door handle only to freeze when Shawn’s hand lashed out and grabbed his. Frowning, he turned and found the psychic pale, wide brown eyes turned towards the building.

“Spencer?” Lassiter asked, suddenly uneasy. When he got no reply, he tried again. “Shawn? What is it?”

“Something’s inside,” Shawn whispered. A moment later he turned to Lassiter and said, “Back the car up.”

“What?”

“Now, do it  _ now _ !”

Fueled by Shawn’s panic, Lassiter threw the car into reverse and barely made it to the other side of the parking lot before the building went up in a fiery explosion.


	4. Guster The Familiar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day they met

August, 1982

Shawn and Gus had known each other practically their whole lives. And while Gus couldn’t recall meeting Shawn no matter how hard he tried, Shawn could remember that day with almost perfect clarity.

It was day three of Kindergarten and he’d already been sent to the hall six times. The lesson was exhausting and boring and  _ easy. _ He knew everyone’s names because they’d all been in class with him in Preschool and not a single one of them wanted to be friends with him. Which was fine, he knew why. His mom had talked to each and every one of their parents at bakesales and what not and even though he wasn’t supposed to be listening, he’d heard every word of their reply,

_ Shawn’s just too loud. _

_ Shawn’s too wild, he’ll hurt Amy. _

_ Shawn doesn’t pay attention. _

_ Shawn can’t sit still. _

_ Shawn’s too reckless. _

_ Shawn, Shawn, Shawn. _

He’d stopped trying to make friends with people when Jackson Rogers punched him in the face and called him a word he wasn’t supposed to say because it was ‘derogatory’ and ‘for grown-ups like me, Shawn, now go play, I’m trying to watch the news’.

Shawn scowled, dropping his chin to his desk and glaring at the teacher as she had circle time with the other children, Shawn having been asked to sit out due to his inability to sit still, listen, and pay attention.

Scanning the group, he frowned slightly when he realized he didn’t see-

“Your name is Shawn, right?”

Shawn sat up and looked over at the boy next to him. “Yes,” he replied. “You’re Burton Guster.”

“Yeah,” the boy replied, holding out his hand to Shawn who took it with a small frown. “How come you’re sitting alone?”

“I’m not allowed to join circle time,” Shawn replied, turning his glare back to the teacher.

“Oh,” Burton said quietly. They sat together watching the teacher for a few moments before Burton asked, “How come you sit back here all alone?”

“I’m too distracting,” Shawn replied. He didn’t really know if he was or what the word even meant, but he’d heard his Preschool teacher telling it to his Kindergarten teacher and had heard his Kindergarten teacher parrot it back to his parents so if figured it had to be true, whatever it meant.

“You sit alone at lunch, too,” Burton pointed out.

“Yeah.”

“Don’t you have any friends?” Shawn shook his head. “Yeah you do.”

Shawn frowned over at Burton. “What?”

The boy beamed. “I’m your friend now.”

“Mr. Spencer, please stop distracting Burton. Burton, will you please come join us?”

“I want to sit with Shawn,” Burton told the teacher. 

“Burton-”

“It’s okay,” Shawn told Burton quietly. “I don’t mind.”

Burton frowned before straightening up and boldly declaring to Miss Whitefield, “I’m going to sit with Shawn because he doesn’t have any friends and I’m his friend now.”

Miss Whitefield heaved a sigh but nodded. “Alright then,” she said in the voice she always used right before she called Shawn’s parents to tell them Shawn was being a bother. As soon as she’d turned back to the book, Burton turned to Shawn and asked,

“Do you want to come over to my house after school?”

Shawn shrugged. “I don’t know if my parents will let me.”

“Sure they will, I just have to tell my parents we’re friends and I can beg them to let you come over.”

“Yeah, but-”

“Trust me, Shawn.”

Shawn watched him for a few minutes before shrugging. “Yeah, okay,” he finally agreed. “But if we’re going to be friends, you need a new name.”

Burton frowned. “Why?”

“I am  _ not _ going to be friends with someone who’s name is  _ Burton Guster _ .”

Burton scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well it’s my  _ name _ .”

“Well I’m going to call you Gus,” Shawn declared.

Burton blinked. “Oh yeah? Then I’ll call you...I’ll call you-”

………………………………..

“Sorry I got you in trouble,” Shawn mumbled, legs pulled up to his chest where he and Burton - newly nicknamed  _ Gus _ \- were seated on the floor in the hallway on either side of the classroom door, having been sent there after Gus’s loud declaration of ‘egg-head’.

“It’s okay,” Gus said, shrugging. “And you didn’t really get me in trouble, I sort of got myself in trouble.”

“Still,” Shawn said with a shrug. “We both know I’m the one going to get in trouble for it.”

“That’s horrible.”

“It’s okay if you don’t want to be my friend anymore.”

Gus’s eyes went wide. “Are you kidding?” he asked. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”

………………………………………..

NOW - 2008

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Gus muttered to his phone as he padded through his apartment to the kitchen where the device lay charging. He heaved a tired sigh at the caller ID before answering and asking, “What?”

“ _ Hey buddy _ ,” Shawn said happily. “ _ Can I get you to do me an itsy-bitsy, teeny-tiny, eensy-weensy-” _

“What do you want, Shawn?”

“ _ Will you come pick me and Lassie up? Also can you drive Lassie come and can I crash at your place? _ ”

Gus frowned. “Why can’t he drive himself?” he demanded. “And no you cannot come over, Shawn, you almost burned down the place last time you spent the night.”

“ _ Well, it’s a real funny story, _ ” Shawn said with an uneasy laugh. “ _ Although I doubt you’ll find it funny, probably more concerning- _ ”

Gus’s anger vanished in a heartbeat. “What is it? Are you okay? What’s wrong? Did Lassiter dump you? Did the date go that bad?”

“ _ Okay, so Lassie had just driven me back to my place from dinner, right? _ ” Shawn said in a hushed tone and Gus heard the chatter in the background go quiet along with the sound of a door closing. “ _ And we’re talking in the car and suddenly I get this...this chill, right? It’s not a vision but it kind of is cause my vision went black and I saw that dude who kidnapped me. Jonathan Marxwell- _ ”

“Jacob Maxwell, Shawn.”

“ _ I’ve heard it both ways. _ ”

“You absolutely have not.”

“ _ Anyway, I saw his face and then saw fire, in my vision and I felt like I was burning. _ ” he heard Shawn talking quietly suddenly to someone else before he turned back to the call. “ _ Lassie says I passed out as soon as he pulled the car back and I don’t remember it but apparently I told him something was in the building and as soon as he put the car in reverse… _ ”

Gus’s stomach dropped. “What happened?”

“ _ My apartment blew up. Totally trashed my bike and severely damaged Lassie’s car so now we need a ride from the station. _ ”

“Oh my  _ god _ , Shawn!” Gus shouted as he rushed around his apartment to grab his shoes and keys, practically flying out of his apartment to his car. “I’m on my way! Are you guys okay?”

“ _ Oh yeah, we’re fine, _ ” Shawn replied casually. “ _ I’ve got a pretty sweet bruise from conking my head on Lassie’s steering wheel when I blacked out but we’re totally fine. _ ” Shawn sighed. “ _ But my apartment, man. _ ”

“Don’t worry, Shawn, you can crash with me for as long as you need,” Gus said as he jumped into his car.

“ _ That’ll probably just be one night, _ ” Shawn said.

Gus frowned. “Why’s that? Did Lassiter-”

“ _ No, no, I have a  _ massive _ headache, _ ” Shawn replied. “ _ Kinda getting a  _ lot _ of visions-oh hey, it was you who stole my mint condition comic book in the ninth grade! Come on, man, that’s so uncool. _ ”

“So getting a lot of visions at once then,” Gus guessed, deciding to ignore the realization.

“ _ Yeah and it’s just making my headache spike into a growing migraine, which is delightful. _ ”

“I’m on my way, Shawn, I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“ _ See you soon, Gussy. _ ”

………………………………….

“Shawn!”

“Here he is, hey Gussy!” Shawn called from where he was seated in Lassiter’s chair, feet propped up on the desk while the detective stood nearby. “See Lassie, I told you he’d be here quick!”

“What happened?” Gus asked, eyes wide as he looked between the two and didn’t miss the way Shawn occasionally shivered, or the head detective’s jacket wrapped around the shaking psychic’s shoulders.

“I was escorting Spencer home,” Lassiter began, looking around in a way that indicated to Gus that he didn’t want anyone to know he and Shawn had been on a date. “When he had a premonition that the building was going to explode. I reversed my car as the glass exploded outwards and the apartment went up in flames, Spencer then passed out for ten seconds after knocking his head against my steering wheel.”

Alright, so Shawn had been telling the truth, good to know. “Who did it?”

“Spencer believes it was Jacob Maxwell, our school-boy kidnapper,” Lassiter replied. “We’re looking for him now and trying to find out if he had any prior knowledge on bombs. The bomb squad, O’hara, and a few other officers are still at the scene trying to find any evidence.”

“He was the one who smashed all my pineapples, Gus,” Shawn said, eyes glazed over just slightly. “And stole my spoons.”

“Who?”

“Ricky Washington.”

“ _ Who _ ?” Lassiter demanded. 

Gus waved him off. “A kid who bullied us in middle school,” he explained.

“Why is that pertinent now?”

“It’s not,” Gus replied. “But apparently getting knocked on the head results in bursts of uncontrollable visions from the past.”

‘Oh’ Lassiter mouthed, looking up with a frown on his face before he asked, “What’s she doing here?”

Shawn leaned around Gus as his friend turned to find Madame Maria coming towards them, dressed for once in sneakers, a lose t-shirt, and jeans with her wild hair pulled back in a tail.

“I saw the explosion,” she said, even though they all had a sense she meant ‘saw’ instead of saw. “I needed to come check on Shawn.”

“ _ Hey _ ,” Shawn said, the word long and drawn out as he grinned. “There’s my...buddy.”

“Hello Shawn,” Maria greeted with a smile before she turned to Gus. “Does he have somewhere safe to stay?”

“He can stay with me.”

“Are there knives with you?”

Gus frowned. “Of course, it’s my apartment. Obviously I have knives.”

“Do you have child locks on your drawers?”

Gus frowned harder before mumbling, “I guess I should, with Shawn as a friend.”

“I would like Shawn to spend the night with me tonight, just so I can keep an eye out for him,” Maria explained. “Sometimes knocks to the head can cause either an increase in visions or an increase in power for psychics and I want to be able to monitor him for any severe changes.”

“Mr. Mittens-The-Kitten stole your left earring and hid it under the toaster.”

Maria smiled. “Thank you Shawn.” Lassiter and Gus - who were more lucid and  _ not _ plagued by visions - could tell she’d already known that.

“He  _ is _ getting a lot of visions,” Gus murmured.

“Is that alright with you then?” she asked, looking at Gus though her question was aimed at him  _ and _ Lassiter. “If I take Shawn home with me?”

“I suppose so,” Gus replied.

“Alright, are you coming Shawn?” she asked, already turning to head out.

“Uh-yup,” Shawn confirmed as he bounced to his feet and shucked off Lassiter’s jacket. And just like that, he was gone. The minute they were out of sight, Lassiter started to say,

“You don’t have to drive me home, Guster.”

Though Gus cut him off by saying, “I’m already here, I may as well.”

Which was how they ended up in Gus’s little Echo, cruising down the roads of Santa Barbara. Without Shawn there to break the silence again and again and again, they drove in quiet for awhile until Lassiter cleared his throat and asked,

“Why are you friends with Spencer?”

Gus glanced over at him, expression neutral. “What do you mean?”

“From what I’ve heard, he doesn’t have any friends,” Lassiter explained. “Yet he always talks about how he's been friends with you from childhood.” Lassiter looked over at the salesman. “How did that happen?”

“Honestly, you have to ask Shawn cause I barely remember,” Gus replied. “But it was in Kindergarten, I think. He was always the outcast and always in trouble and...I don’t know.” Gus shrugged. “I just knew I was meant to be his friend.”

“I presume Madame Maria has a word for that too?”

“Yep. Familiar.”

Lassiter frowned. “Aren’t familiars typically cats for Witches?”

“In folklore, yes,” Gus confirmed.

“So what’s a Familiar for a Psychic?”

“A Familiar shares a bond with a Psychic that no one else will,” Gus began. “No matter what happens between them, no matter how many fights, the Familiar will always return to the Psychic.”

“Like a trained dog.”

Gus chuckled, the kind of laugh you give when you’ve heard a joke before. “Exactly,” he replied. “While you’re Shawn’s Tether and his reason for staying in one place, I’m his Familiar which makes me his companion.”

“So what’s your job?”

“Well, many Psychics,  _ exactly _ like Shawn actually, suffer from an overactive mind, ADHD or ADD, or even an eidetic memory. It means it’s hard for them to make and keep friends because of their overactivity and the stuff they know. A Familiar is essentially numb or immune to all of that which often means they’re the only friends or close relation a Psychic can make and keep aside from a Tether.”

“I see.”

“I’m a support system, essentially,” Gus simplified. “See, think of a Psychic as a table or whatever. Something with four things to hold it up.”

Lassiter shifted. “Alright.”

“Every Psychic has four pillars that support them,” Gus began. “There’s the Tether, the Familiar, the Mentor, and the Interpreter.”

“Interpreter?” 

“Someone who can understand the Psychic more clearly than the rest of the pillars. No matter what small clue the Psychic has or the smallest, least understandable vision, the Interpreter can figure it out. Sometimes when Shawn is speed talking through his visions, nothing makes sense to anyone but the Interpreter.”

“Who’s Shawn’s?” Lassiter asked without even realizing he’d used the Psychic’s first name.

“I don’t know,” Gus replied, shaking his head. “It’s someone close to him and Madame Maria says we’ve already met them, but-”

“O’hara.”

Gus looked over with a frown, thinking Lassiter was on the phone. But upon discovering he had been making an exclamation for the conversation, Gus asked,

“What do you mean?”

“Whenever Shawn talks about his visions, stammers through an explanation in search of a clear word,” Lassiter clarified. “O’hara is the only one who can make any sense of them at all.”

“Oh my gosh, you’re right!” Gus agreed, eyes wide. “Gosh,  _ how _ could we have not made that connection before!? Ugh, and Madame Maria said the Interpreter is almost  _ always _ someone who already knows the Tether.”

Lassiter blinked. “She’s told you a lot, then.”

“Well, yeah,” Gus replied. “We met her when we were sixteen. It took a bit for Shawn to realize and accept he was Psychic but Madame Maria has always been so patient and she’s always willing to answer questions we have.” he glanced over at Lassiter out of the corner of his eye before asking, “I’m sure she’d love to talk to you about it if you stopped by.”

“No thanks.”

Gus shrugged. “I get it, she’s not for everyone.” he tilted his head to the side. “I’m pretty sure Shawn hated her when we first met.”

“How come?”

“She knew a  _ lot _ about him, about both of us, without being told. Shawn can do the same thing with his abilities and his photographic memory, plus his dad taught him to pick up on really small clues without even  _ trying _ . I think it was just weird to have it turned back on him.”

“I see.”

They drove on in silence for a few moments before Gus said, “You know, Detective, as fun as driving around at six in the evening is, it would go a lot faster if you gave me your address.”

Lassiter’s face burned.

………………………………………….

“So how was your sleepover with Madame Maria?” Gus asked with a smile as Shawn trudged into the Psych office the next day, sporting a nasty bruise on his forehead from smacking Lassiter’s steering wheel, though at least the bruise matched the circles under his eyes.

“Define ‘sleep’,” Shawn mumbled as he dropped down onto the couch under the window, letting out a long groan. 

“Are the crazy visions better now though?” Gus asked.

“Yeah, they went away after about two hours,” Shawn replied, turning his head to the side just to make sure his voice was audible.

The office went silent then since Shawn didn’t add anything else and Gus wasn’t sure what else to say. When he looked up a few minutes later, he found Shawn with his arms wrapped around one of the couch pillows and fast asleep.

Shaking his head, Gus turned back to his computer and took advantage of Shawn being passed out to get as much work done as possible. It wasn’t that he couldn’t work while Shawn was awake, it was just that Shawn made it almost  _ impossible _ to get  _ good _ work done while he was awake.

Surprisingly, Gus managed to get a solid two hours of work done before Shawn suddenly bolted upright, tossing the pillow to the floor as he shouted,

“Gus, duck and cover!” before throwing himself onto the ground. Now, Gus usually ignored Shawn’s outbursts like that but considering Shawn had psychically known his apartment was about to blow up the night before, the pharmaceutical salesman was more inclined to listen to his friend so he dropped to the ground and crawled under his desk just as the front window shattered inward.

……………………………..

“You know, I could be wrong,” Shawn mused, he and Gus outside on the sidewalk after the attack - shots being fired at the window in an attempt to kill the inhabitants - while they waited for the police. “But I think someone wants me dead.”

“Yeah, you  _ think _ !?” Gus snapped, just as Lassiter’s Crown Vic pulled up and he and Juliet stepped out and rushed over. (and yes, Head Detective Carlton Lassiter  _ rushed _ with fear in his eyes though he wiped it off his face when they got close).

“Shawn, Gus, are you okay?” Juliet asked, looking back between them, eyes widening at the glass in Shawn’s hair. “What happened?”

“Someone tried to kill us,” Shawn said cheerfully, as though that was a perfectly normal thing.

“Someone shot out our front window,” Gus explained a little more clearly after Juliet’s horrified gasp. “We don’t know that they were trying to kill us.”

“Gus, don’t be a…” Shawn trailed off before snapping back to the subject. “I’m ninety-nine percent certain it’s the same person who blew up my apartment.”

“Jacob Maxwell, right?” Gus asked, looking over at the two detectives. “Does he know how to build a bomb?”

“Technically, we can’t legally ask unless we have probable cause on him being the one who did it,” Juliet explained. “And he’s currently missing.”

“Missing?” Shawn asked, perking up. “Missing how?”

“Well, we just found out he escape custody,” Juliet explained. “No one knows where he is.”

“Considering someone blew up your apartment  _ and _ your office, Spencer, the Chief has advised we place you both under police protection,” Lassiter said gruffly.

“What?” Gus asked. “Why me?”

“Because you were here too,” Juliet replied. “And you’re friends with Shawn. If the killer or attacker knows that, he might go after you just to get to Shawn.”

She didn’t need to say that it would work. They all knew it would.

“What about my dad?” Shawn asked in a surprising moment of care. “He knows me.”

“The Chief is talking to your dad personally,” Juliet replied. “And we have an APB out on Jacob Maxwell.”

“Well that’s good.”

“For right now, Shawn, it’s best that you and Gus lay low,” Juliet said gently. “Since whoever is attacking knew your address, it’s likely they know Gus’s and are probably watching it.”

“So what does that mean?” Gus asked. “I can’t go home?”

“You’ll be staying with me for the time being,” Juliet replied. “There’s going to be two officers stationed outside the house at all times.”

“What about Shawn?”

“Since Spencer is the target, he’ll be staying with me,” Lassiter replied firmly. “We’ll have five officers at the house and three officers following him if he goes anywhere.” Shawn opened his mouth but Lassiter cut him off firmly by declaring, “That does not mean you get to go anywhere willy nilly.”

Shawn snapped his mouth shut, staring before asking, “Did you just say willy nilly?”

“No,” Lassiter snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. “If you feel the need to leave the house, you have to have a destination and permission from both myself and the chief.”

“Ugh,” Shawn whined. “It’s like being back with my dad all over again!”

“Think of it this way, Shawn,” Gus said, clapping Shawn on the shoulder after they grabbed everything they needed from the office before getting into the back of Lassiter’s car. “Unlike living with your dad, if you irritate Lassiter enough he’ll probably shoot you and put you out of your misery.”

“Huh,” Shawn muttered. “I hadn’t thought of that. Hey Lassie-”

“ _ Enough _ ,” Lassiter snapped, gripping is steering wheel with a white knuckle grip as they drove back to the station. “For the rest of the day, the two of you are staying at the station until O’hara and myself leave. Spencer, you and Guster will be questioned by the chief as soon as we arrive to see if there’s anything else you can tell us.”

“Okie dokie.”

Lassiter sighed, already regretting agreeing to be the one to house the wild psychic for the foreseeable future. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. They had better find Spencer’s attacker soon or Lassiter was going to be hiding a body.

………………………

“Uh, Shawn?” Gus asked after they’d been at the station for three hours and Gus looked over to find Shawn seated on Lassiter’s desk, the papers and computer shoved to the sied. Thankfully the detective was nowhere around cause otherwise, Shawn would be a dead man. “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to get a connection,” Shawn replied, staring down at the file in his hands which contained information on the explosion of his apartment and shooting at the psych office.

“With?”

“Whoever attacked us,” Shawn muttered. “They’re connected though, I know they are.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Well think about this, Gus,” Shawn said, tossing the file to the side and looking up at his friend. “The bomber couldn’t have known when I’d be back to my apartment that night, yet the explosion went off mere minutes after we got there.”

“Yeah?”

“So obviously they had to have been there waiting for me to get back before they set off the explosion.”

“But why didn’t they just wait until you came in?”

“Maybe they were waiting and that’s why it took a few minutes,” Shawn mused. “Maybe they got impatient.”

“But they would have used a trigger for the bomb, not a gun.”

“You’d think so,” Shawn corrected, holding up a finger. “But forensics found a bullet, or at least fragments of a bullet, at the scene.” he grinned brightly. “They’re sniper rifle bullets.”

“They’re?”

“Both the bullet at the office and the bullet from my apartment,” Shawn clarified.

Gus’s eyes went wide. “So it’s the same person!?”

“Has to be.”

“So what are you waiting for?” Gus asked. “Go tell Jules and Lassiter.”

“Gus, don’t be a wet blanket,” Shawn said, pausing to try and figure out if he’d used that correctly before ultimately deciding he didn’t care. “Did you forget that Lassie threatened to shoot me in the face earlier when I offered my last suggestion,”

“That’s because you suggested that the shooter and bomber was Chuck E. Cheese,” Gus reminded his friend hotly.

“You don’t know that it’s not, Mr. Cheese has always had it out for me.”

“How can an animatronic mouse have it out for you if your dad never let you go?”

“That’s  _ exactly _ why, Gus.”

Gus opened his mouth to declare that that made absolutely no sense before finally just throwing his hands up in the air and taking a seat in the chair next to Lasstier’s desk, the one Shawn was supposed to be ‘sitting and staying’ in.

The two were quiet for a few moments, Shawn flipping through some of the files on lassiter’s desk, before Gus cleared his throat and moved the chair closer.

“So how did it go?” he asked in a low tone.

“What?”

“The...dinner.”

“Oh!” Shawn perked up instantly. “Pretty good, actually. I think he was a little anxious.”

“He wasn’t just making fun of you?”

“He partly did it because of Madame Maria, I think,” Shawn replied. “She told him he’s my Tether.”

“Yeah, we were talking about that on the way home last night,” Gus said. “So does he really have feelings for you?”

“Well  _ obviously _ , Gus,” Shawn replied, rolling his eyes. “Who wouldn’t?”

“Shawn-”

“Seriously though, yes he does,” Shawn confirmed. “He’s my Tether, he technically  _ has  _ to.”

“So...are you guys pursuing a relationship or what?”

Shawn shrugged. “All I know is he said we can’t let anyone here know we went on a date or there’s something even remotely close to romantic happening.”

“Ouch.”

“I agree,” Shawn said in a shocking moment of maturity. “He could lose his job for getting into a relationship with a ‘co-worker’ and we could lose our consultation job.”

“And you respect his request?”

“Of course.”

Gus leaned back. “That’s shockingly mature, Shawn.”

Shawn beamed. “Thanks, Gussy,” he said brightly just as Juliet and Lassiter approached.

“Spencer,  _ what _ do you think you’re doing on my desk?” Lassiter growled.

“Picking up on clues and connections you missed,” Shawn replied, waving the file under Lassiter’s nose until the detective snatched it away.

“Oh?” Lassiter demanded as he flipped open the file to glare at the first page. “And what connection might that be?”

“The bomb was set off by a bullet, one that comes from a sniper rifle,” Shawn listed off. “The shot the broke the office window was from a bullet from a sniper rifle. It’s why there was no sound of a car speeding away.”

“ _ Just _ tell me what you found in a more clear way,” Lassiter growled.

“The shooter from both scenes is the same,” Juliet said, Shawn turning to stare at her while Gus nodded and Lassiter continued to glare at the paper.

“Thanks Jules,” Shawn said, beaming. “That’s  _ exactly _ what I meant!”

Lassiter grunted. “So they’re connected,” he muttered. “Still doesn’t help us find the culprit.”

“Give us time, Lassie, we’ll get ‘em,” Shawn said, beaming.

Lassiter rolled his eyes before grabbing Shawn by the arm and hauling him off the desk, grumbling under his breath about ‘infuriating psychics’ as he put everything on his desk back where it belong.

Rolling her eyes, Juliet turned to Gus. “I’m done with everything here, so we can head out if you’re ready.”

“Sure thing, Jules,” Gus confirmed, standing before glancing over at Shawn and Lassiter. “Shawn, do you think you can manage  _ not _ irritating the man with the gun while I’m gone?”

“But Gus, where’s the fun if Lassie’s not a red as his undies?” Shawn asked brightly, Lassiter whipping his head up to stare at Shawn with pure fury and slight embarrassment in his eyes.

“Oh boy,” Gus muttered to himself as he turned to Juliet. “Let’s go, Jules.”

“Bye!” Shawn chirped before sliding into Gus’s seat, leaning against Lassiters desk. “So Lassie, just us now.”

Lassiter shoved him on the floor.


	5. Meet Your Mentor, Madame Maria

August 14th, 1993

“A psychic, seriously Gus?” Shawn whispered when they entered the psychedelic looking shop, the air  _ reeking _ of incense and covered in all sorts of hippie junk, crystals, tie-dye, you name it, it was there.

“I’m just sayin’, Shawn,” Gus muttered as they looked around. “Yesterday I asked you where my cat Tabby went and you told me she was dead under the porch.”

“So?” Shawn asked, frowning as he walked over and picked up a huge hunk of quartz, grimacing at the weight. “I say stuff without thinking all the time.” he put the rock down and looked back at Gus. “Where is Tabby anyway.”

“Dead,” Gus said bluntly. “Under the porch.”

Shawn blinked. “Huh,” he muttered. “What a coincidence.”

“No Shawn,  _ not _ a coincidence,” Gus declared. “Stuff like that has been happening since you crashed your bike back in April and woke up from a coma.  _ Hell _ , weird Dejavu stuff has been happening since before we met!”

“What are you suggesting then?” Shawn asked with a skeptical scoff. “What, I’m psychic or something?”

“That’s exactly what he’s suggesting, Shawn Spencer.”

Shawn and Gus spun around towards the beaded doorway in the back of the store to find an older woman standing there in a white dress with beads and bangles and tangled, curled hair, standing there and watching them.

“Uh…” Shawn said eloquently. “Hi. Who are you?”

“My name is Madame Maria,” the woman introduced as she approached. “And your friend is very wise to bring you here.”

“I am?”

“He is?”

“You are and he is,” Madame Maria confirmed. “Tell me, Mr. Spencer, do you know what you are?”

Shawn blinked. “A troublemaker?”

“Try again.”

“An idiot,” Gus chimed in.

Madame Maria smiled. “Not quite,” she replied, gesturing to the circular table in the center of the store, the one covered in an elegant deep blue table cloth with sparkling gold trim and tassel. “Please have a seat.”

Shawn heaved a tired sigh but allowed Gus to drag him over to the padded seats and eagerly shove Shawn down onto them.

“Listen, Madame Maria,” Shawn began. “We don’t want to waste your time-”

“In case you haven’t noticed, Mr. Spencer, there is no one else here,” Madame Maria said, gesturing widely to the room, empty save for a black tabby sitting on the window seat and seemingly glaring into Gus’s soul. “Therefore, there is nothing to waste.”

“Right.” Shawn grimaced. “Can you stop calling me Mr. Spencer?”

“Of course, I apologize,” Madame Maria said instantly. “Mr. Spencer is your father, correct?”

Shawn raised an eyebrow. “Obviously.”

Madame Maria smiled. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

Shawn hated the uncomfortable feeling that sentence gave him. “Right,” he muttered.

“Mr. Guster,” Madame Maria said, turning her piercing gaze from Shawn and onto Gus. “Why exactly is it you brought Shawn here today?”

Gus raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you a psychic? Shouldn’t you already know?”

“I am and I do,” she confirmed. “But I don’t think Shawn does.”

“Nope,” Shawn confirmed where he was slouched in the seat with his arms crossed over his chest. “I just know that Gus is super into stuff like this and  _ totally _ believes it’s real.”

Gus rolled his eyes before turning to Madame Maria. “Ever since Shawn was a kid, he’s had these sort of dejavu type flashes where something happens and he says he saw it coming.”

“It’s called dejavu for a reason, Gus,” Shawn said. “It just means you think you’re familiar with something that’s never happened before.”

Gus ignored him. “And then back in April, he got into a motorcycle accident.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Madame Maria said. “I hope you’re feeling better.”

That had Shawn softening slightly. “Thanks, I am,” he muttered.

“He was in a coma for a month after though,” Gus told her. “And when he woke up, his dejavu stuff changed to knowing where stuff was.”

“Like Gus’s family cat, apparently.”

“Shawn said she was dead under the porch.”

“And was she?”

“Yes.”

Madame Maria hummed before clasping her hands together atop the table and turning to Shawn.

“May I ask you a question, Shawn?”

“Go for it.”

“Do you have eidetic memory?”

Shawn frowned. “Yeah,” he replied.

“Do either of your parents have any type of eidetic memory?”

“My mom has eidetic tonal memory,” Shawn replied, shifting to sit up.

“And your father?”

Shawn scoffed. “He’s a cop.”

“I see,” Madame Maria replied. “Shawn, do you believe in psychics?”

“Not really.”

Madame Maria hummed before she stood. “Alright,” she said, moving over to the window seat where the cat was still perched, reaching for the book balanced on the window sill and carrying it back over to the table. “Close your eyes.”

“Oh come  _ on _ !” Shawn groaned. “Seriously? First my dad, then you?”

Madame Maria smiled. “We’re not counting hats today.”

Shawn’s eyes went wide. “How do you-”

“Close your eyes.” Shawn stared at her before finally sighing and doing as he was told. Madame Maria then turned to Gus and put a finger to her lips before she vanished behind the beaded curtain once more. She returned a few moments later and took her seat across from the two sixteen year olds. “Open your eyes.”

Shawn did so, looking around the store with a small frown on his face. “Okay?”

“Where did I put the book?”

Shawn opened his mouth only to shift, his eyes widening just slightly before he spoke quickly, almost as though he wasn’t thinking,

“You threw it out the window which was already opened in the bathroom.” His eyes went wide. “What the hell?” he whispered.

Madame Maria smiled. “That ability is called retrocognition.”

“It’s called what?”

“Have you ever heard of precognition?”

“Yeah, it’s like being able to see into the future.”

“It’s exactly like that,” Madame Maria said. “Alternately, retrocognition is the knowledge of a past event which could not have been learned or inferred by normal means. Such as ‘seeing’ where I threw the book, even though you didn’t see it and don’t know anything about the layout beyond that doorway.”

Shawn stared at her before he finally straighted up, leaning forward with a small frown while Shawn stared on with wide eyes.

“What are you saying?”

“You, Shawn Spencer, are Psychic,” Madame Maria replied. “And a very powerful psychic at that.”

“I can believe I’m going with this,” Shawn whispered even though he’d always sort of suspected he had superpowers, those ideas always shot down by his father which was why he didn’t believe in it as strongly anymore. “So what happens now?”

“You said your ‘visions’ have been happening since you were a kid?”

“Wait, those dejavu flashes were visions?”

“Yes.”

“Wow. Um...yeah, since I can remember,” Shawn replied.

Madame Maria nodded. “That means you are a Born-Psychic, like myself.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means one of your parents is either psychic or half-psychic,” Madame Maria replied. “Have you ever told your parents about these visions?”

Shawn scoffed. “Yeah. Dad told me there’s no such thing as magic and mom took a psychologist’s approach and made me draw pictures and interpret ink blobs for an hour.”

“I see,” Madame Maria mused. “In that case, I will assume your mother is half-psychic, since you said she has eidetic tonal memory.”

“Okay?”

“Normally, Born-Psychics have one or two parents who are able to train them and help them hone their abilities.”

“Dad’s making me hone my photographic memory, does that count?”

Madame Maria smiled. “That  _ helps _ but doesn’t count,” she replied. “Since neither of your parents have what it takes to properly teach you to control your  _ psychic _ abilities, I would be honored to take on the role of your Mentor.”

“Is it a requirement?” Shawn asked.

“It’s not,” Madame Maria replied. “But a Mentor is one of the four pillars of the Psychic, so it is advised.”

“One of the what?”

“All Psychics have four ‘pillars’ in their lives,” she explained. “There’s the Mentor who trains and guides the psychic, the Familiar who is mostly the only friend Psychics are able to keep.”

“Gus,” Shawn murmured.

“Me?” Gus asked.

“Exactly,” Madame Maria agreed, turning to Gus. “Tell me, Mr. Guster, when you became friends with Shawn, who approached who?”

“I don’t really remember.”

“Gus approached me,” Shawn replied.

“Why?”

Shawn frowned. “He knew I sat alone all the time so he came over and said he was my friend.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“And most Familiars don’t,” Madame Maria informed them. “Most Familiars can’t even say what drew them to the Psychic.”

“Why is that?”

“It’s hard to say,” she replied. “The connection between a Psychic and his or her Familiar isn’t a very clearly understood one. What we do understand is that many Psychics suffer from an overactive mind, eidetic memory, and in some cases, ADHD or ADD. They’re considered too wild and energetic for others. But Familiars such as yourself, Mr. Guster, are essentially numb and immune to all of that which helps them stay by the Psychic’s side, no matter what happens.”

“Sounds like Gus,” Shawn said. Gus couldn’t help but agree.

“What are the other two pillars of the psychic?” Gus asked, now totally invested. “You said four, right?”

“I did,” Madame Maria confirmed. “The third and fourth pillars are The Interpreter and The Tether. The purpose of the Interpreter is to, obviously, help interpret the Psychic’s visions. In some cases, the Psychic will speak quickly as they describe their vision and it isn’t immediately clear what they’re trying to say or what thry’ev seen. An Interpreter can take what sounds like nonsense and know without a moment of thought what the Psychic is trying to say.”

“That’s cool,” Shawn said. “Who’s my Interpreter?”

“I don’t believe you’ve met them yet,” Madame replied after a moment of thought.

“Oh.”

“It’s not uncommon for a Psychic to not meet their Interpreter or Tether until well into their adult years,” she explained.

“What’s a Tether?” Gus asked.

“Please don’t be a romantic thing,” Shawn muttered.

Madame Maria chuckled. “I’m afraid it’s exactly a romantic thing, Shawn.”

“Damn.”

“The purpose of a Tether is to ground the Psychic, give them a reason to stay in one place but also make them comfortable with staying in one place. Shawn, do you ever feel like you just want to ‘go’ and never stop?”

“All the damn time.”

“That’s because the originally Psychics used to travel constantly,” Madame Maria explained. “It’s ingrained in Psychics to travel. A Tether, however-”

“Tethers a Psychic to one place,” Gus guessed.

“Exactly.”

“So where does the romantic part come in to?”

“The Tether is often the soulmate or  _ ‘Rialtas’ _ of the Psychic.”

“The Ria-what?”

“A more complicated term for soulmate,” Madame Maria clarified.

“Of course. And I presume I haven’t met him or her yet?”

“Correct,” Madame Maria said before suddenly holding out her hand. “But if you allow me to read your palm, I can take a strong guess as to what year you’ll meet them.”

Shawn was still skeptical but with Gus nodding eagerly at his side, he sighed and placed his hand palm up into hers. The store was silent for a few moments as Madame Maria looked over his hand before saying,

“You’ll meet them both in 2006,” Madame Maria finally said. “Your Interpreter is a blonde female who works with your Tether.”

“Oh, that’s pretty cool,” Shawn said, shrugging. “How am I going to know who’s who?”

“It’ll be like a puzzle piece sliding into place,” Madame Maria replied.

“Cheesy.”

She smiled. “You’ll feel calm, in the Tether’s presence. Tell me, how do you feel when you’re with Mr. Guster?”

“Calm, I guess? Content?”

“And how do you feel sitting here with me?”

Shawn was silent for a moment. “Calm…” he replied slowly. “Content…”

“That’s how you’ll feel upon meeting your Tether and Interpreter.”

“Well...that’s cool I guess.” Shawn narrowed his eyes suddenly. “I’m not expected to get into a relationship with my Tether, right?”

“There’s potential and it will better help to ground you,” Madame Maria replied, allowing Shawn to take his hand back. “But no, it’s not required.”

“Okay, cool, that’s a relief.”

Madame Maria smiled and though she said nothing, Shawn knew she knew something about his future relationship with his Tether.

“So the four pillars of the psychic are the Mentor, the Familiar, the Interpreter, and the Tether,” Gus asked, checking to ensure he understood. “What happens if he loses one of them?”

“Let’s hope we never have to find out,” Madame Maria replied ominously.

“Right.”

“So what do you think, Shawn?” she asked. “Would you like me to be your Mentor?”

“What if I say no? What if I don’t want anything to do with the Psychic business?”

“Then I won’t stop you,” Madame Maria replied. “But I will always be here if you change your mind.”

Shawn nodded before standing and heading towards the door. It was only when he placed his hand on the knob, Gus at his side, that he heaved a sigh and turned to face Madame Maria as he reluctantly asked,

“When do we start?”

……………………………………

NOW - 2008

“Raymond?”

“Yeah?” Raymond called from the kitchen. Madame Maria was silent for a few moments where she was seated on the floor of their living room, staring down at her tarot cards spread out in front of her. When she didn’t reply for another few moments, her husband came out of the kitchen, drying his hands on the dish rag. “What’s up?”

“Your brother,” Maria said, looking up at her husband. “Where is he?”

Raymond shrugged. “I don’t know, I thought he was arrested a few weeks ago,” he replied. “Why?”

Maria shook her head as she stared down at the tarot card of death. “No reason.”

Raymond followed her gaze and heaved a sigh. “Look, I get that being a scam artist is something you’re good at,” he drawled, arms crossed over his chest. “But can you  _ not _ bring that bullshit into our home?”

“It’s not bullshit, Raymond,” Maria said calmly as she scooped the five cards back into the deck and began shuffling them once more. “It’s real.”

Raymond heaved a tired sigh. “Whatever,” he muttered, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorway as he watched Maria deal out the cards once more. “This has to do with that kid, doesn’t it? Henry Spencer’s son?”

Maria looked up as she placed death’s card on the floor once more. “Shawn, yes,” she confirmed. “Someone has been attempting to kill him.”

“What does he expect?” Raymond asked. “I’ve seen some of the stuff that kid gets involved with from the news, he’s lucky to be alive.”

“That’s a horrible thing to say, Raymond,” Maria told him, looking up with a glare on her face. 

“What?” Raymond asked. “It’s true.”

Maria stared up at him for a long time before gathering up her tarot cards once more. “Is dinner ready?” she asked, changing the subject.

“Just about, yeah,” Raymond replied. “It should be done by the time you finish cleaning up your toys.”

Maria sighed, shaking her head as she scooped up the tarot cards and placed them back in their box, taking them up the stairs and into her ‘office’ where she kept her home Psychic objects. Stopping by the bedroom to pet Mr. Mittens-The-Kitten who was relaxing on the dresser, Maria made her way back downstairs to the kitchen, just as Raymond pulled the pizza out of the oven.

“Look, if you and the kid are so ‘psychic’,” Raymond asked as they took a seat at the table. “Why don’t either of you know where the attacker is?”

“That’s not how either of our Psychic abilities work,” Maria explained calmly. 

Raymond rolled his eyes. “Convenient,” he muttered.

Maria let that go, deciding not to make a comment and instead changing the subject by asking,

“How was work?”

………………………………….

“Are you serious? Mary, it’s three in the morning!”

Maria ignored her husband’s outburst where she was seated once more on the floor of their living room, this time with tarot cards and several crystals surrounding her.

“Shawn is my Neophyte. It’s my job to keep him safe and to help him hone and control his abilities,” Maria said calmly while Raymond glared at her from the bottom of the steps. “Someone tried to kill him,  _ twice _ and I am going to find out who it is.”

“At three in the fucking morning?”

“Am I bothering you down here, Raymond?” Maria finally snapped, looking up at her husband with a glare on her face. “Is my tarot reading too  _ loud _ !”

Raymond sighed. “Mary-”

“Go back to bed,” she demanded.

As Raymond turned and stormed up the stairs, Maria could have sworn she heard her husband growling-

“Fucking piece of  _ shit _ .”

The Psychic sighed, gazing down at the death card that once more lay before here. “How much longer?” she asked it softly.

Death did not reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be a sequel coming, I just haven't finished it yet. I've got quite a few works ready for this series.
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know your thoughts!


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